Rift
by Zora de Blaise
Summary: Charles Dorian lives after the attack of December 1776 and now it is time for Arno to become a Master Assassin in order to keep the truce between the Templars and the Brotherhood, but it is going to be difficult, especially when he has to befriend a certain fiery Templar. ArnoXÉlise.
1. Prologue

**Hey guys, I am back for round two…ish.**

**As of right now, this is just a story idea that will be continued depending on how much you guys, the awesome readers that you are, like it. After beating Unity and still struggling with the feels, I really wanted to make a story that was actually happy…ish. There will still be some sadness to this tale to push it along, but not too bad like the heartbreak I am still feeling from Unity(I swear that game broke me). **

**Anyway, sorry if this chapter is short, but I need your input because I am struggling if I want to continue this bad boy or not. This is basically a what-if Charles Dorian survived story that is going to be purely ArnoXÉlise with a hint of chaotic mess thanks to the French Revolution. **

**Enjoy. **

Prologue

_Tick-tock._

Tiny gears, too small for the naked eye to see in great detail, push the hands of time forward in my father's pocket watch as I await for his return. As an eight year old boy, I hate waiting. Especially when I'm forced to sit in a chair in an empty corridor. These parties are dull and uneventful, but my father says he has to attend for work. I think he said something about a meeting with a client.

Either way, I don't want to be here.

A giggle erupts from down the hall causing my attention to snap to the fiery, red-haired girl hiding behind a statue not too far away. She smiles widely upon our eyes making contact, and immediately retreats until she is peaking through the threshold to a study_. _My eyes travel from her to the room on the opposite side of the corridor where my father's meeting was taking place. His words linger in my head as I turn to face the girl once more who is now ushering for me to follow. I sigh as the urge to stand up and pursue her becomes overwhelming, but I restrain the desire behind my father's command before it is able to take over.

Glancing back the girl's direction, I shake my head to notify her of my decision and sulk back into the uncomfortable cushioning of the chair. She seems upset about my choice, and like a ghost, she is instantly gone. Perhaps she went to find someone else to play with…If only I could join her…

Time bleeds on as more guests fill the halls with their powdered faces and lacey dresses. The hands on the watch seem to move slower now as the corridor grows heavy with noise and the pungent scent of perfume assaults my nostrils. Why did he have to have the meeting here of all places?

"See, Arno," my father's voice calls out and I turn to face him and his associate. "I told you it would not be all that long."

With excitement, I jump from the chair and hand the watch over to my father. "Can we go see the fireworks now?" I ask.

"Of course," my father responds as he sends a smile my way before turning back to his companion. "Safety and peace."

"To you as well," the man replies and excuses himself from our presence.

"I hope I did not miss too much excitement," my father says as he takes my hand and leads me through the building's maze-like structure.

"Not really," I retort. "No one here likes to play. They just like to talk."

He smiles at that comment. "Did you go exploring like I asked you not to?"

"No, father."

"Arno…"

"I swear I didn't."

I know he is toying with me the moment he gives that grin that says he doesn't believe the truth. He laughs lightly as he nudges me with his hand and I nudge back playfully. As soon as we are outside of the _palais, _the two of us combine with the crowd as the show is just about to start.

"How will I be able to see the fireworks?" I ask as I stand on my toes to try and look over the taller heads.

"Come here," my father says before picking me up and holding me in his arms. "Can you see them now?"

"Yes, but will your arms tire?" I ask as I gaze from the dusk glazed sky to him.

"If they do, we can retire for the night and maybe pay a visit to Belrose's bakery."

A smile breaks out on my face as I nod. My father returns the grin before we both look upwards to watch the explosion of colors across the darkening heavens. The light show keeps everyone's attention on the sky to the point that the world around them becomes nonexistent. The same also became of me until I heard multiple voices being exchanged several feet behind us. Curious to the noise, I turn away from the fireworks and scan the crowd for the source of my distraction.

At first, the many faces seem to blur together in the darkness, but just as another explosion brightens the _jardin_, I see my intended target. He moves through the people effortlessly and with very little shoving on his part in order to bypass the many barriers between him and his location. Unintentionally, we both lock eyes and he instantly freezes like a deer who has been seen. It was then that I noticed the prominent scar along his right eye like that of a warrior.

"Father, do you know him?" I ask.

"Know who?" he inquires as he turns to gaze across the crowd. As soon as my father's eyes fall on the man in question, his features sink into a serious stare before placing me back on the ground. "It seems we must leave now."

Without another word, my father grabs me tightly by the hand and drags me through the mass of people. Confused, I gaze from the hand that is pulling me to the man following quickly behind us as he tries not lose sight of our location. As we disappear back into the _palais, _I question my father about the figure chasing after us, but he merely silences me, and asks me to stay quiet until we are back in the carriage. I reply with a nod and we continue through the estate until we reach the front of the building where four uniformed men stand guard while several of the valet await their orders.

As we wait for our ride, my father seems to shift uncomfortably while his eyes dart in every direction as though searching for something. I've never seen him like this before. I did not even know he had a nervous habit until I noticed his hands clench at his sides. Was that man dangerous?

As we see our carriage arriving at the gates, a flick of metal alerts my father and I, and we both turn in time to see two of the guards be downed before the mysterious figure takes out the remaining ones in one swift motion. My mouth parts in a silent scream before my father pushes me out of the way just as the assailant moves in to attack him.

As the man tries to sink the blade attached to his wrist into my father's chest, he easily out powers him and unsheathes the dagger hidden in his coat. Everything I thought I knew about him is erased as I watch him fight off the criminal. The man is quick, but my father keeps up the defense while the assailant tires himself out. Fear has me planted in place, and no matter how much I want to, I can't move.

I feel my voice return as my father is knocked to the ground while a new tear opens on the chest of his coat. A light layer of blood dabs onto the dark fabric, but it isn't enough to kill, only weaken. I call out to my father with tears in my eyes; which stops the attacker, but after a few seconds, he continues forward while extending the blade on his wrist once again.

"No!" I holler as I rush forward. My father cries out my name to stop me, but I dart between them and become a weak barrier.

"Stupid child," the man mutters and easily knocks me to the cobblestone ground.

I knew there wasn't much I could do, but I did what I could, and that was delay the man until the rest of the guards began rushing from the _palais _and towards us. The assailant glances over his shoulder at the oncoming brigade and curses beneath his breath. He gives my father a nasty glare before dashing off to the right and up the side of the building almost like how a squirrel would climb a tree. Two of the guards help my father to his feet and he instantly rushes to my side to check on me.

"Arno, are you alright?" he asks, his tone worrisome.

I nod, but I'm sure my wide eyes and shaky form gave away my true nature. "Yes, father," I reply.

He hugs me for a moment with a tight grasp as though it was the last few moments left on earth. My father was not one to easily show his emotions, especially in a public area, but something about that man had spooked him.

We are forced to wait while the guards scan the area before giving us the clear to leave. The moment we are in the carriage, my father orders for a trip to Paris, something he has never done before at such a late hour. It is unexpected, but I figure it has to do with the attack; otherwise, my father would not allow for such a timely ride. I ask him why we are not returning home, but he merely pats me on the shoulder.

"Arno…I've been keeping something from you…something most boys your age already know about," my father explains while the lights of Versailles slowly disappear beyond the hill.

"Does this have to do with that man?" I ask and he nods.

"Yes…you see…I think it is time for you to start your training."

I arc a brow as the carriage passes on bumpy roads. "Training…for what?"

He gives a sad smile as our eyes lock. He's hesitant as he clenches his fists open and close, but he finally licks his lips before placing a large hand over the small, cupped ones in my lap. "For you to become an Assassin."


	2. Soirée

**The first official chapter is here :D**

**I know this chapter is also not very lengthy, but I wanted to get the details of Arno's and Élise's different but same pasts described so the story becomes more apparent for those who are questioning how this tale is going to play out. Like I said before, this is just an idea I've been playing with that I probably spent a week formulating, and thanks to you, the readers, I will continue writing until I figure out how I plan to conclude this story. **

**Thanks for the lovely reviews and the awesome support.**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 1: Soirée

_May 5, 1789_

_Versailles_

Why do the nobles hold decadent parties almost every day of the year?

I've never truly understood the social occasion even after all the years of being dragged to them with my father. It is as if these men and women preferred wasting their wealth on meaningless celebrations while the rest of France perished under debt. It would not astound me if half of them did not know that their riches have cost hundreds of lives, but I am sure they would look the other way regardless.

Fireworks explode overhead while a group of latecomers and I wait for our turn to enter through the gates of the _Château de Versailles. _I hardly recognize the faces in the crowd, and quite frankly, I don't wish to learn them. Knowledge of their existence usually involves a death, and despite my occupation, I despise playing God with their lives.

"Name?" the man asks as I finally approach the gate.

"Arno Victor Dorian," I reply while straightening my back.

The corner of the man's lip ghosts a frown for a fraction of second before he nods and ushers me along. I continue on without hesitance as I roll my eyes at the rude gesture that could have easily been missed. I guess my father's suit is too traditional even for the servants. As I make my way into the _palais, _I let myself fall into the flow of the crowd as we all march to the same area: the ballroom. The people around me speak wildly about a range of topics, but each subject includes the same person.

The guest of honor.

At long last, I make it to the ballroom where the party is in full hype. Men and women dance in pairs in the center of the _chambre _while the rest line the walls and gossip amongst one another. Closing my eyes, I drown out the space around me before reopening them to a new world. From across the room, a figure illuminates with a golden hue letting me know where my target is hiding.

With what little patience I can muster, I maneuver through the mass as elegantly as possible despite the many women who 'fall' in my way. I am forced to excuse myself more times than I should until I finally reach my location. Taking in a deep breath, I clasp my hands behind my back and steadily walk forward until I am standing at the man's side in front of the crowd.

"It's been a long time, Arno," the man states as he examines me out of the corner of his eye. We both keep our gaze forward at the dancing figures in the center of the room, but our attention is on our surrounding patrons.

"Good to see you too, _Monsieur _de la Serre," I reply as I notice a fidgety man in the corner.

"Thank you for coming on such short time," he whispers under his breath. "I hate to call you away from your mourning. You have my condolences."

"_Merci, monsieur._"

"Natural causes," he huffs. "Such a rare form of death with men of our occupation, but then again, your father always had a strange form of luck."

I smile at the comment. "That he did, but I highly doubt you brought me all the way out here to reminisce about him."

"You are quite right," he mutters while he gives a curt nod to a passing friend. "I know that tensions between the Templars and Assassins have grown quite bitter, but we can not let our ancestor's past dictate how we should act in the future. Do we really want to go back to senselessly killing one another because our opinions differ?"

"I'm going to take a wild guess and conclude that negotiations both within and outside your order are turning sour," I assume.

"That's an understatement, but yes. Mirabeau informs me that some in the Brotherhood do not agree to our truce as well, and we have had men on both sides die from insubordination. I know it seems a bit far-fetched, but I believe the thought of destroying the peace was placed in their heads. Otherwise, I do not think they would have gone through with it."

"You think someone within both our orders is trying to tear us apart?" I question as I finally turn to look at him.

"I know they are," he replies while making eye contact.

"So what now?" I ask as I turn away to scan the area once again.

_Monsieur _de la Serre sighs while pulling an envelope from his coat and handing it off to me. "This is a letter intended for Mirabeau. You spoke of returning to Paris, so I hope that you will join in our cause to keep stability for both us and France."

I place the parchment in my coat as my attention catches a tassel of familiar red-hair within the dancing figures. "You asked me to return from Austria so that I may be the neutral party for our truce?"

"Your father has been preparing you for when this day were to come. You've been on both sides of our agreements, and even spent several summers within my home as an honored guest. I'm not asking you to side with me, but to make sure that we do what is best for our Orders."

I nod as I understand his stance in all of this. So much has been accomplished since our two Orders have put aside our differences to help stabilize the nation, but going back to the old ways…we might as well destroy France now.

"I will speak with Mirabeau in the morning and see the complications for myself. I can not guarantee a neutral stance, but I hope we can come to an understanding," I state as I turn to face him once again.

"It is all I ask," he retorts.

I smile and give a curt nod his direction before eyeing the crowd one last time. "If you would excuse me, I must take my leave. It's quite a trip to Paris."

"Do as you must…and Arno…stay safe."

I turn towards him and nod in understanding. François de la Serre does not spook easily, and judging by tonight's behavior, someone out there is threatening an internal war. As much as I despise death, I've grown to hate diplomacy more. Politics does not run in my blood, but somehow, my father and I were chosen to be the representatives for the Brotherhood. Sometimes I wish they would just send me on a suicide mission.

Disappearing back into the crowd, I quickly maneuver across the ballroom once more and exit into the corridors. Although I have not even been here for an hour, I'm already desperate to escape this party; however, I know I'm not going to get away so easily. I notice a figure following closely behind, but far enough away to keep a distance between us. I sigh as I continue through the maze of halls until I reach an empty section of the building before stepping into a room and locking the door behind me.

Walking up to the window, I clasp my hands behind my back and watch the fireworks light up the night sky. I smile as I hear the fiddling of the knob before light pitter-patters scratch against the lock. After some time, the mechanism finally clicks and the door slowly opens to reveal my follower. Through the reflection of the glass pane, I see the red curls of the guest of honor as she closes the door behind her and relocks it.

"Élise," I say with a sour taste as she approaches me slowly.

"Arno," she greets with a smile. "Testing me again?"

"You are definitely getting better," I state while eyeing her reflection closely. "But you are still far too slow."

Her lips form into a playful pout as she circles to my right and stands at my side to watch the fireworks with me. "It's been what: six…seven years? What brings you back to France?"

I curl my lips downward as the last memory from our childhood resurfaces. "For someone who pushed me off a balcony out of pure spite, you are far too intrigued with my business."

"When I see an Assassin speaking with my father, it becomes my business."

"Really now?" I question with a smile as we both turn to look at one another. "Because if I recall, you have yet to be ceremonially accepted into the Order."

"And you think yourself better than me since you have been entitled a Master?"

I almost lose track of my thoughts as I stare into her watery-green eyes. Although she is the exquisite beauty every man dreams of owning, I see the sharpest of thorns beneath her stunning elegance. And to think I had once bought into her attraction until she broke my leg.

"Shouldn't you be torturing your suitors right now?" I ask in order to change the subject. "Or has your father insisted no more men try for your hand in marriage?"

Élise slowly takes a few steps closer while folding her hands behind her back similar to my manner. "Those boys are far too boring. It seems I can no longer find anyone who can last more than a few hours."

"So you come back to me, the only toy that hasn't broken yet?"

"What can I say?" she mutters as our bodies are so close now that I can feel the heat from her skin. "You are far more durable than they are."

"Ah, you have been tormenting others? So I am not as special as I thought I was."

Her eyes narrow as a mischievous grin forms on her face. Élise leans forward until our lips barely brush, and although I know what game she is playing, I do not pull away. She is trying to get the upper hand and gain control, but she should know by now that I am not the same boy she used to so easily trick.

"If you think that charm of yours is going to work on me, then I'm sorry to disappoint," I mutter.

Élise merely smiles as she brings her mouth to my ear. "The kiss wasn't meant for you."

She winks my direction before turning on her heel and makes her way towards the door. As she unlocks the mechanism, she gives me one last side-ways glance before disappearing into the corridors. Despite the years of training to prepare myself for anything, there was always one thing I could not bring myself to master: women. And it does not help that the one whom I am having the most trouble with was cursed by the devil himself.

Collecting my confused thoughts, I straighten my back before exiting the room and heading towards the main entrance of the _palais. _The guards don't even spare me a second glance as I pass them by, but I guess I would not as well. After so many guests, the faces tend to blur together and everyone begins to look the same.

As I am about to begin the long trek to the gates, I see the familiar stature of François de la Serre who seems to stumble from the side of the building like a man who has had too much to drink. I am about to call out my goodbyes to him until I notice the red liquid seeping between his fingers as he holds on desperately to his neck. I rush to his side with the guards shortly in tow as he falls to the ground with one final breath.

I kneel at his side with a clenched heart and a mind full of questions as I examine his wounds. It was evident during our brief talk that he was wary of death threats on his life, but yet he stayed here in the middle of the danger despite it all. Losing control of my emotions, my vision flashes and the world around me drains away while the trail to my target becomes clear through the darkness. I stand straight once more before marching off towards the side entrance of the _palais_ and follow the path laid out for me.

It seems _Monsieur _de la Serre was right: there was someone out there who did not want the peace between the Templars and Assassins to continue, but who would prefer chaos?


	3. Tension

**I think we need more ArnoXÉlise fanfiction stories…where are the other writers hiding?**

**I'm not sure if I should make long chapters which will be published once a week, or short ones that can be put out every other day. Still deciding on that, but for now I am juggling between this story and a ShayXOC idea I've had stashed away for a while. **

**Anyway, enjoy. **

Chapter 2: Tension

_May 6, 1789_

_Versailles_

Dawn arrives too soon as I finally circle back to _Monsieur _de la Serre's manor. Whomever his killer was, it was evident he had this attack planned for some time now; if not, then he had to at least have an accomplice. A carriage awaited for his arrival right outside the _palais' _grounds, and through the cover of darkness, he managed to slip away. I had chased after him for as long as I could, but he soon lost me within the narrow streets.

Sweaty and racked with fatigue, I trudge forward and approach the estate with hesitance. I spent the entire walk here trying to imagine what to say to Élise; however, my mind has done nothing but draw a blank. _Monsieur _de la Serre's death was not like my father's whom passed peacefully while in his bed. I may mourn for my father, but Élise will have it much worse.

The servants do not try and stop me as I pass them on my way to the library. From the gossip being whispered throughout the building, Élise locked herself inside the study the moment she returned, and still has yet to come out. Although I can not help but worry, I'm glad she is staying isolated rather than running off and doing something reckless.

"Élise!" I call as I knock on the door to Francois' former office. "Élise, we need to talk."

"Go away, Arno," she hollers back.

I know that tone. It's the same one she used after her mother passed when she was eight. I never did see her cry, but I remember hearing her sobbing as she hid away in the hedges of the _jardin. _She may be tough, but she is not invincible.

"Élise, please open the door," I ask, but my response is a thud from the other side of the wood. She must have thrown a book.

"I said go away!"

Not giving up just yet, I walk over to the window, grab a hold of the grooves on the architecture, and silently climb along the wall until I am hanging outside of the office _fenêtre. _Peering inside, I nearly lose my grip as I notice the make-up streaks on Élise's tear-stricken face. She was still in her emerald green dress, and it looks like she too has yet to sleep.

Not wasting another second, I swing my legs backwards before propelling myself sideways and into the open window. Before my feet even hit the floor, Élise is standing from her chair with a pistol raised in my direction. My hands immediately fly upwards in a surrendering gesture and she slowly lowers the flintlock before placing it on her father's desk.

"That's some welcome," I say as my muscles finally relax from the night's tension.

"One can not be too careful," the woman states as she takes a seat back in her chair. She retrieves a handkerchief from her dress and wipes the makeup from her face while I examine the many letters scattered across the desk.

"Élise-"

"You knew, didn't you?" the red-head interrupts and my eyes instantly fall to the floor. "That's why you returned from Austria?"

"Your father was aware that someone at that ball wanted him dead," I explain as our eyes meet. "He only invited me so I can help settle the tensions rising within both of our Orders, and tonight is more proof that someone does not want that to happen."

"So you are saying that you knew, but did not try to prevent it?"

I open my mouth several times to retort, but I have no excuses. She was right: there was something I could have done; however, I did not see it as my place to intervene until I was able to speak with the Council. Had I followed my instincts while in that ballroom and investigated the suspicious men and women I saw, _Monsieur _de la Serre may have lived.

"It was wrong of me to leave before checking the status of security, but your father was well aware of the situation," I state earning a glare from the woman. "Whoever killed him had to be someone he knew and believed he could trust; otherwise, I do not think he would have let his guard down so easily."

"Are you insinuating that a Templar killed him?"

"_Monsieur _de la Serre knew he was being threatened, and it wasn't just the Assassins."

Élise stands from her chair and maneuvers around the desk until we are standing in front of one another. "And how do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't have to," I remark which causes her to press her lips together into a thin line. "If you can find anything that can give us a lead, the assassins will aid you."

Our eyes do not break contact as we observe the other carefully. "And I'm going to ask again: why should I place my trust in you?" she questions.

"We both want to see your father's killer brought to justice, and we also do not want to slaughter each other like our ancestors used to do," I retort as I take a step forward. Élise stands her ground, but she seems nervous. "Even if our two sides don't always agree, I'm sure you would like to avoid that situation as much as I would."

After several moments of silence, Élise finally nods while blinking away forming tears. "Fine. I will see if my father has anything that will give us a hint at who is behind all of this, but where does that leave you?"

I sigh as the memory of the _soirée _resurfaces. "When _Monsieur _de la Serre and I spoke last night, he gave me a letter intended for Mirabeau. It's best I return to Paris and speak to him and the Council for further guidance."

"He gave you a letter?" she questions as her eyes narrow. "Why are you just now presenting this information?"

"Because it isn't our place to know the contents unless Mirabeau is willing to provide it," I retort which earns an eye roll from the red head. Pulling the device from my pocket, I glance down at my father's former watch and let out a heavy breath as I notice the hour. "I should leave before the streets become busy."

"And leave me with all the work?"

I really do not have the patience for this. "All I ask is that you find anything your father may have received that will give us a direction to his killer. If he did leave something for us, then send a letter and I will return to discuss further plans."

"How do I send a letter if I don't know where you will be?" she asks as I turn to leave.

I tilt my head back to look at her with a smile on my face. "When have I ever been able to hide from you?"

And there it is: the curl of her lip as she forces the grin down. It's difficult to find something to hold on to at the worst times in your life, especially when you lose someone close. Although our shared childhood was a bit rocky, I need her trust if we were going to work this out.

"Safety and Peace," I call out before unlocking the door and taking my leave.

X

Although the trip to Paris takes several hours, my mind refuses to let me sleep. The night's stresses piled up on my shoulders the moment I sat down in the carriage and nothing I did let me forget what I still have yet to face. I question how Élise fairs, but I'm sure I already know the answer.

The carriage halts, and I am about to question the driver why we have done so until I glance out the window and notice where we are. Outside is a sight I have longed to see again, and thought I never would. The _Café Théâtre _had been like a home to me as I trained here in Paris. My father had bought the place many years ago when it was falling into debt, and with time, spruced it up and made it a favorite among the locals.

The best part about it's location was not only the view of the _Cathédrale Notre-Dame, _but it also stands right above the Assassin Headquarters.

I tip the driver before making my way down the stairs along the river wall until I reach the shores of the small island. An assassin is ready at the entrance to the underground and gives a small bow of respect before unlocking the door for my arrival. I give him my thanks and enter into the dreary caves.

Many of my fellow brothers welcome me back to the city as I march onward through the corridor, but after seven years out of the country, it didn't surprise me that I did not recognize any of their faces. However, there was one man leaning against a wall whose ugly mug I will never forget. With our lips matching a smug smirk, we both shake hands before slapping each other on the shoulder.

"Starting to look like your old man, pisspot," the man states as he takes a step back to observe me. "Especially in that horrendous outfit."

I throw a scowl his way before glancing down to examine my father's suit. "It's traditional," I retort.

"Glad no one practices tradition anymore," he jokes before shifting his attention towards the stairwell that leads to the Council's library. "They expected you last night."

"I was caught up elsewhere; which is something that needs to be urgently discussed."

He turns to gaze at me with a confused look on his face. "What's got you worked up, pisspot?"

"I'll explain later, Bellec," I promise as I pass by the older man and tread up the stairs.

Although I dread meeting with these people, it is necessary that I do so with haste. All four of the Council members are in attendance and are currently bickering amongst one another as I enter into the library. They each become quiet upon recognizing my form as I move in to stand between the four desks.

"You're late," the Council leader, Mirabeau, states.

I force myself not to roll my eyes as I fold my hands behind my back. "I was asked to be elsewhere; which turned out to be far more complicated than I had anticipated."

"You were asked to return to Paris at the utmost importance," the dark-skin assassin, Guillaume Beylier, adds.

"François de la Serre is dead," I speak up before I am interrupted again. "He was murdered at the _Palais de Versailles _last night."

Each of the members gasp while their eyes widen from shock. In an instant, they forget I'm in the room and go back to squabbling with one another. They, at first, discuss who the killer may have been before they turn to arguing on how they plan on keeping the truce in place. I try to input my thoughts into their debate, but their voices over power mine and I am left to listen to them bicker.

"We need to request an audience with whomever is to become the new Templar Grand Master," Mirabeau suggests.

"_Monsieur _de la Serre did not have a successor. Not even his daughter was ready to take his place," Sophie Trenet speaks up.

"She's right," Hervé Quemar states. "Élise de la Serre has yet to even be accepted into the Order; which only leaves very few to take his place. However, it will be some time before anyone is elected to become the Grand Master."

"If you do not mind me interjecting, I have more information," I announce causing the Council to fall silent. Taking the letter from my coat, I step forward and hand it off to Mirabeau before returning to my place. "_Monsieur _de la Serre knew there was someone out there threatening to spill his blood, but he was not certain who it was. I think he may have believed that someone within the Templar Order wanted him dead."

"And why would anyone want that?" Quemar questions.

I shrug while my eyes flicker between the four. "The truce, perhaps? Apparently someone out there would prefer us senselessly killing each other rather than there be peace."

"Chaos is an invitation for power, and for some, it is hard to let go once they have had the taste of it," Mirabeau speaks up as he places the letter down on his desk. "Arno speaks true. It seems _Monsieur _de la Serre had his suspicions about disruption, and he did not believe it was only one-sided."

"We can not just sit idle while this threat plots from the shadows," Sophie states earning an agreeing nod from the other two Council members.

"We can not cause a panic," Mirabeau explains. "We will pretend to be ignorant of _Monsieur _de la Serre's death until we can diplomatically discuss future plans with the next Templar Grand Master."

"So we are just letting his killer go?" I question as my blood begins to boil.

"We have no leads to this criminal's whereabouts or even who he is unless there is something you are keeping from us."

I bite the inside of my cheek as I realize the truth in his words. "No, I do not."

"Then you are dismissed."

I say nothing more as I turn my back to them and march out of the library. I know that the Council will avoid starting a conflict even if it meant letting the killer live, but that is not justice for anyone. I will find the man responsible, but first, I need to return home.


	4. Allies

**It's difficult having twenty different story ideas in your head, but not enough time to even work on one of them. I have another ArnoXÉlise what-if, ShayXOC, and an EdwardXOC story that I have started but still have yet to finish, and it is driving me insane since I don't have the time to write any of them. **

**Anyway, had to get that rant out of the way. Thank you guys so much for the kind reviews and words of encouragement. They really do mean a lot, and several of you have given me ideas for character development and story processing. I know I can't hug you, but just know that I love you guys(Dearly not queerly. Brotherly not loverly.)**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 3: Allies

_July 2, 1789_

_Paris_

The one thing I miss most about Austria is the peace and serenity that came with the cities. Here in Paris, the world is alive no matter the time of day leaving little room for your own thoughts. It is why I weep for France. The people are far too busy with trivial matters that they can not see the big picture in front of them; no matter how many times it shines like a beacon in front of their faces.

Instead of returning to our former estate, I chose to take the spare bedroom located above the _Café Théâtre._ I never did like the enormous manor in the countryside, but I somehow found a home within the establishment my father spent years remodeling. It not only had a convenient location, but it also held a welcoming feeling to it that I never felt anywhere else.

Checking the temperature of the liquid, I make sure the once boiling water has settled to a comfortable warmth before stripping from my assassin robes and sliding into the bathtub. I instantly sigh as my muscles relax after nearly two days of trying to smoke out lowly criminals whom were suspected of working for a Templar named Sivert. Mirabeau made it clear that no Assassin shall take the life of any of _Monsieur _de la Serre's former men until we speak to the new Grand Master.

I sink lower into the bath until my chin hit's the water's surface while my mind wanders elsewhere. It's been nearly two months since François de la Serre's death and I still have yet to hear from Élise. Perhaps she is still searching for answers, but knowing the woman, she probably found what she is looking for and is out trying to find the killer alone. Although it would not astound me if the latter was so, she should not be so reckless. If the murderer is doing all of this for power, then we can only assume that Élise will also be a target.

Which brings up another question: why destroy the peace?

Mirabeau is convinced that they want a war between our two groups again to give one Order the control of France. According to the Council, the new Grand Master does not want an audience with the Assassins and refuses to even discuss matters by letter. Although I have done what I could to speak to any of his representatives, this man does not want to be associated with us. If push comes to shove, I will have to demand a meeting with him, but I must save that for a last resort.

My eyes snap open as the sound of heels clicking against tile echo from the corridor. The footsteps belong to a woman who is small in stature and strides with authority. I know who it is before she even enters my room, and I can not help but smirk as her confident form becomes flustered upon seeing me in the nude. She immediately turns her back towards me while keeping her gaze on the wall in front of her.

"Have you ever considered knocking?" I question which only makes her shift more uncomfortably.

"Have you ever considered shutting your door when you bathe?" Élise retorts.

I shrug as my grin grows. "Don't tell me this bothers you?"

She says nothing as she turns on her heel to face me once more; however her eyes never leave mine. The woman's cheeks are nearly as red as her hair and she still fidgets her hands to keep herself calm. She used to never get so easily flustered by the sight of a naked human being. I wonder what has changed.

"I found a letter sent to my father the day he was murdered," Élise announces as she pulls an envelope from a pouch on her belt. "You were right. Someone from within the Templar Order had this planned."

This will most likely be the only time I will hear her admit I was correct, but there is no time to cherish the moment as the red-head hands the letter over for me to read. Her eyes travel to the fireplace and her shifting worsens as I read the content.

"Who's L?" I question as I return the parchment.

"The new Grand Master," she replies while making eye contact.

"Chrétien Lafrenière?" I ask and she nods. "He warned your father, but immediately takes the position the moment he is dead, and he does not want to come to terms with the assassins? Does that not strike you as odd?"

"He has yet to speak to the Council?" she inquires as she takes a seat on a stool next to the fireplace.

"He's refused every offer. If we do not talk with him soon, we will be looking at a renewed conflict on our hands."

Élise presses her lips together as her eyes travel to the floor. "He must be paranoid. I understand since there are traitors to the true Templar cause within our Order, but I may be able to convince him to have an audience with Mirabeau."

I nod as the idea is the best shot we have right now. "You wouldn't have happened to find any clues to your father's murderer when you found that letter?"

The flinch is barely noticeable as her pupils begin to dilate. "No. That was all."

"You're lying," I state causing her attention lift towards me.

"I do not need the help of the assassins to take down the man who killed my father!"

My eyes narrow as I sit up straighter in the tub. "You really think that these men would stop at just killing _Monsieur _de la Serre?" Élise's eyes fall to the floor before she begins to fidget her hands once more. "If they want control of the Templar Order then you will also be someone of importance. Think clearly and let us aid you."

"I do not need protecting," she spits between clenched teeth while making eye contact.

"I want to help you," I say calmly which soothes her anger slightly.

"Help me?" she mockingly laughs. "Despite the truce, I can not trust the Assassins."

"Do you trust me?"

It was a sincere question. If she was willing to come here, then there was a sliver of faith left in her from our former relationship. We used to be so close, but after our fight when I was fourteen, we refused to even write to one another. My thoughts of her turned sour after that day despite forgetting what even started the argument. Honestly, I had missed our friendship, but I'm not about to let her know that.

She opens her mouth to retort but closes it when she can not find the words to say. I know she does not want to admit it, but she needs my help. "Even if I say yes, how do I know you will trust me?" she questions.

I chuckle as I glance up at the ceiling while resting my head against the edge of the tub. "Can't say I can let my guard down around you after what happened, but…" My attention falls back onto the red-head who gives me a look I am unable to read. "…I'm willing to try if you are."

Élise presses her lips into a thin line before sighing. "I'm only going to trust you with this. No one else….There were a few other letters my father received that were delivered to our home shortly before his death. There were several names within them that Lafrenière suspected but could never confirm."

"Who are they?"

"Charles Gabriel Sivert was one of them."

I nod knowing that he has been under the Assassin watch for some time now for his disturbances against the truce in the past. "Anyone else?"

"There were two other names but neither of them are part of the Order."

"You wouldn't happen to remember them, would you?"

She shakes her head causing her curls to sway. "I thought nothing of it since there was not much be said about them."

"Then we will start with what we have," I say as I pull myself upwards and out of the tub.

Élise squeals in shock as her cheeks glow a dark red while her hands fly up to cover her face. "What the hell is wrong with you? No forewarning?"

Standing there in all my glory, I can not help but smirk at the woman despite her not being able to see me. "Mind telling me why you are so flustered about this? If I recall correctly, you used to storm in my room at the most inconvenient of times."

The red-head removes her hands from her face, but refuses to open her eyes as I stride over to my cabinet to dress. "It's been seven years, Arno. People change."

"Are you referring to yourself or I?" I question while pulling a pair of dark trousers over my legs.

I glance over at her through the reflection of a mirror and notice the small smile gracing her lips. The red-head takes a quick peek to see if I'm at least decent before opening her eyes fully to look at me despite still missing a shirt. I guess she is shy to a man's private regions.

"It looks like we have both grown in the years apart. You more than I," she mutters nonchalantly, but I notice the odd tone in her voice. Was she insinuating something?

I instantly clear my throat before pulling a white shirt over my head. "You should go speak with Lafrenière and convince him to meet with Mirabeau. If we can get them to negotiate peacefully, we may be able to eliminate this new threat."

"You are kicking me out, aren't you?" she questions while standing from the stool.

"We need to act quickly," I retort. "And yes, I am. Your staring is making me uncomfortable."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I had made a mistake. A mischievous grin forms on the woman's face as she strolls over to me and grabs a hold of my untied, red cravat before pulling our faces closer until our noses barely brush one another. I try to separate from her, but Élise's grip has made it to where the fabric would choke me if I strayed away.

"Is that so?" she asks flirtatiously.

"Do we really have to play this game of control right now?" I inquire.

She mocks a pout. "Don't be that way. You used to love it."

Before she can react, I wrap an arm around Élise's waist, twirl us in a circle, and press her back against the wood of the cabinet. Her eyes are wide and her breath hitches in her throat as I lean in until our forehead touch. Her hand subconsciously loosens against the cravat letting me know I was the one in control this time.

"Yes, I did. Until I found out it was just a game to you." I pull away, leaving her speechless as I grab a coat and head for the door. "Don't forget to talk to Lafrenière."

X

As I enter the library of the Assassin's Headquarters, I can not help but notice the troublesome features on each of the Council member's faces. They each turn to look at me, while Mirabeau motions for me to step forward. I bow upon standing in the middle of their desks while eyeing each of them carefully.

"Did something happen?" I ask earning a scowl from all of them.

"It seems Pierre Bellec had himself imprisoned inside the _Bastille _a month ago," Guillaume announces.

"You're joking? Well…that explains his disappearance."

Mirabeau snorts. "He was under no contract when this occurred, so this is all on his own agenda. However, with the recent events, we need him here instead of in there."

"Let me guess: you want me to break into the _Bastille?_" I question. "Can we not leave him there for a while longer? The job is nearly impossible for just one person."

"You will not be going alone," Quemar speaks up. "You and three others will be tasked to retrieve Bellec and bring him home."

"Joy," I mutter earning a glare from the elders. "But I did not exactly stop by to receive a new assignment so soon."

"Then what brings you here?" Mirabeau asks as he leans back in his chair.

"I've spoken to Élise de la Serre," I retort causing the Council to snap to attention. "She will discuss matters with Lafrenière and hopefully we can make plans for negotiations."

"You were able to contact her?" Sophie questions.

"Actually, we just departed from one another. She should keep me informed if the Grand Master decides to meet."

"And you think she will be able to persuade him?" Quemar challenges and I nod his direction.

"The woman has a way with words," I utter. "She is desperate to find her father's killer, but she also does not want his legacy to be diminished. If we can not get an audience with Lafrenière, I'm sure Élise is willing to be his representative."

"You are sure she will do this?" Mirabeau queries.

I sigh as I nod once more. "She needs our help as much as we need hers. Aiding her in her conquest should not be too troublesome in exchange for renewing the truce."

The Council members glance between one another before finally nodding. "Very well. We will do what we can if she is able to convince the Templar Grand Master to meet with us," Mirabeau states. "But for now, decide who you will taking with you on your new assignment. Choose wisely and report back when you are ready."

I nod and bow before exiting the library. I know Élise is a handful, but Bellec? I'm sure the drunk will find his way out of the prison before I even assemble my team, but just to entertain the Council, I will do as I am told.


	5. Start of a Revolution

**A few notes:**

**1) I know this chapter is short, but I will have chapter five out within the next few days. I was having major writer's block with the pacing and it just turned out horribly so I am cutting it here and moving on. Sorry in advance. **

**2) I found out that Google+ documents has a live feature, so I plan on doing some live writing sessions that will allow viewers to watch my process while yelling at me to do better. I will post my times on my Tumblr and the link to my blog can be found in my profile page (I also post what I am doing all the time so you can see how lazy I am). **

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 4: Start of a Revolution

_July 14, 1789_

_Paris_

There was not one person in the city who could sleep through the uproar the citizens had created. The Parisians, now under the control of the Bourgeoisie Militia, had already stormed the _L'Hôtel des Invalides _earlier this morning; however, the weapons they managed to confiscate were lacking powder and shot. Now the citizens march with anger and confidence towards the Bastille in order to acquire the gunpowder and ammunition stored inside.

I wait along the rooftops of a nearby home as the people in the streets below move as one and gather around the fortress. Footsteps behind me signal that my three companions had finally arrived; however, due to an unexpected chain of events, our mission to rescue Bellec had been moved forward by several days. This leaves us with no preparation nor a solid execution plan.

"Getting inside will not be easy," Vincent, my axe-wielding friend, states as he and the others join at my side. "Especially now that the citizens have forced the garrison to set up a defense."

"We can use it against them," Adrian, a green-cloaked assassin, remarks. "They will be busy withholding the crowd which will allow us to slip inside."

Dressed in the traditional white, Laron's eyes scan the outer wall of the Bastille before his attention falls back on the citizens. "We can split up. Two of us can sneak inside while the others create a distraction."

"I know we do not have much to work with, but it's worth a shot," I say before turning to face the others. "Vincent and I will find Bellec. Do you think you two can find a way to keep the guards busy?"

Laron pulls a cherry bomb from the pouch on his waist while a smirk graces his lips. "I have something in mind."

"Stay low and do not engage the enemy. Let's do this while avoiding a fight," I order and my team salutes in return.

Without hesitation, we each leap from the rooftop and disappear amongst the crowd on the way to our destination. Vincent does his best not to stray too far as we circle the perimeter of the building where there were less men stationed along the side of the garrison. To avoid detection, the two of us leap down into the dried canal along the Bastille and hug the wall until we are able to locate an open window three stories above us. We wait until the guards make their next rounds before beginning to scale the side of the fortress as quietly as humanly possible.

The two of us make it to the window; however, we are forced to cling to the architecture as the officer returns to the aperture. My grip slowly loses integrity as the wait drowns on for several minutes longer than the previous time. Vincent gives me a worrisome glance as he too begins to slip against the rigid stone, but thankfully our prayers are answered as an uproar charges from the front of the Bastille. I do not allow anymore time to pass, and as soon as the uniformed man is gone, I leap through the window and into the dimly lit fortress. My companion follows shortly behind me and the two of us creep silently along the corridors as we search the cells for the prisoners. All the guards that once walked the halls were now stationed elsewhere allowing us to pass through the halls undetected.

Our first corridor had proved fruitless; however, the moment we make it to the next floor, commands ring out above the vicious shouts coming from outside. As Vincent and I take positions behind a doorway, I enhance my senses in order to find my target amongst the many patrons in the room while remaining hidden. Sitting off in a separate area of the largest cell, Bellec relaxes against a wall with one knee propped up and a smirk on his face. He must have tried to escape during the commotion earning him the forming bruise on his left cheek. His eyes shift from the guards to the wall we were hiding behind several times before he begins to mumble a small tune. The bastard already knows we are here.

I signal at Vincent before retrieving a smoke bomb, light the fuse, and toss it into the corridor. The two of us rush in as the guards begin to sputter and we take them down one by one until there were none left standing. The other prisoners stare in utter shock at our entrance, but the silence is broken by Bellec's laughter. He automatically jumps to his feet before walking over to the cell door with a toothy grin on his face.

"Took ya long enough, pisspot," he chuckles as I retrieve the keys from the warden.

"Quite honestly, I want to leave you in there," I retort as I unlock the contraption. "But the Council wants you back at the bureau."

"Is it really that bad that they don't want me locked away?" he says as a joke, but he really had no idea.

Before I can even make a remark, the roar of cannon fire cracks through the air before the building shakes upon impact. Neither of us say a word as we begin our race through the garrison and away from the spitting shots behind us. Vincent takes the lead and catapults himself through a window before scaling the inner courtyard of the garrison. Bellec follows shortly after him and I trail after the older assassin. As we climb the architecture, I glance down at the battlefield below and search for our other companions, but they are no where to be seen. The familiar chill of worry flows through my veins, but I know better. I hand picked these men myself knowing that they were stubborn in the face of death. They would sooner die to gravity than by the hands of the militia.

Our pace up the side of the building quickens as yet another cannon blasts from the streets and shakes the place like an earthquake. As I reach the roof of the fortress, the stone beneath my fingers crumbles under the weight and my stomach drops as I begin to fall. Both Bellec and Vincent dive to the edge of the roof and grab my arms before pulling my form over the ledge. The sweet taste of adrenaline causes my heart to beat wildly in my chest while my breath becomes rapid. We are only able to stop for a moment before being forced to continue as incoming guards rush towards us.

Like before, Vincent takes the lead and makes a leap of faith off of one of the towers and lands in the water canal below that flows straight into _La Seine. _Bellec is the next to go and then I shortly after. The current slowly drags us away from the chaos above as the citizens continue their assault on the military inside. We do not let the water carry us far before swimming to shore and resting against the wooden docks below a bridge. The drunk, once again, is the first to break the silence with his boisterous laughter as he sits up.

"I'm starting to wonder what you were doing in Austria all those years, pisspot. That was the fastest escape I've ever had from a jail cell."

I roll my eyes while glancing over at Vincent who is already standing and wringing the water from his coat. "We need to find the others and get back to the bureau," I announce as I mimic the other assassin's gesture and shake the liquid from my clothes. "It's too dangerous to stay in the streets."

"Despite not wanting to hear a lecture from our lovely council, I agree," Bellec states as he joins at our sides. "The people want blood and they don't care whose it is. Lead the way, pisspot."

X

_Assassin Headquarters_

The hour falls into the late evening when we finally arrive at the bureau. Although the distance between the Bastille and the headquarters is not terribly far, the five of us were forced to lie low and circle around the back alleys to avoid the ferocious rioters amassing in the streets. As soon as we enter the safety of the underground, we instantly split and go our own ways. Bellec was supposed to come with me to meet with the Council; however, he mumbled something about a bath and clean clothes before disappearing into the corridors.

I sigh as I travel alone towards the library and enter into the dimly lit room. Mirabeau and Sophie are in attendance, but Guillaume and Quemar are no where to be seen. Their conversation halts as soon as their eyes land on me and the older man gestures for me to take a seat in one of the empty chairs.

"We received news of the storming at the Bastille," Mirabeau announces while observing me closely. "Is everyone safe?"

I nod as I gaze between the two. "We retrieved Bellec with no injuries and little interference from the guards. The people's anger towards the militia made the job easy."

"Where's Pierre now?" Sophie questions as she glances at the doorway.

"I believe he wandered off to make himself presentable," I reply as I too take a quick glance at the corridor. "He smelled worse than a stable when we freed him."

The woman subconsciously wrinkles her nose while Mirabeau slightly shakes his head. "We will speak to him in due time, but we have other matters we must concern ourselves with now that Bellec is back with us," the man states.

"Does this have to do with Lafrenière?" I ask and both of them nod.

"Élise contacted me this morning," Mirabeau starts. "The Templar Grandmaster has disagreed to meet with us personally; however, he has made an exception to allow a representative to help establish negotiations."

"And who would that be?"

"He is granting Élise de la Serre the power to oversee the truce and its foundations," Sophie speaks up. "But due to her lack of ranking within the Templar Order, Lafrenière will put in his own word by letter."

My attention flickers between the two elders as I notice the glint in their eyes. "And you are informing me of this ordeal because…"

"…We need someone in our order to be a representative," Mirabeau remarks and I internally sigh as I knew he was going to drag me into this. "You and that girl spent some time together when you were young. She will most likely listen-"

"-Élise does not listen to me," I interrupt quite rudely, earning a surprised expression from the two. "We may have spent some summers together, but we are no longer close."

Both Council members share a glance before gazing back at me. "She has asked for you personally," Sophie says causing me to nearly sputter in shock.

"And why would she do that?" I question.

"You can ask her yourself when you meet in _Les Halles_ tomorrow," Mirabeau responds while giving me a hard look. "We need you to do this, Arno. For the sake of the Brotherhood."


	6. Relationship

**I'm really sorry I could not get this typed up before Christmas like I had originally planned. Life is just a busy mess right now. Anyway, not much to say at the moment, so I am going to just hand the chapter off now.**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 5: Relationship

_The familiar smell of cooked pig assaults my nostrils as I gaze at the quiet streets of Versailles. The sun still had yet to set; however, many of tonight's guests were already in attendance for the soirée. Today was Élise's twelfth birthday and Monsieur de la Serre wanted the best for his little girl since it would be the last year she would spend as just a child. After this day, she will begin her true training to become a member of the Templar Order._

_A knock on the door of my room causes me to flinch out of surprise and I beckon the person to come inside after calming my frantic heart. Fiery red curls appear through the threshold before Élise enters the chambre and closes the door behind her. She clasps her hands behind her back while striding over to my location and takes the empty space at my side. _

"_Why are you not dressed yet?" she questions while gazing out the window. "The party is about to begin."_

"_I don't like the crowds," I reply as our eyes meet. "The people are boring."_

_Élise gives me a crooked smile before taking my hand and dragging me over to the closet where she pulls my suit from the many of the other fabrics before shoving it into my arms. "You are going to attend," she orders._

"_Do I have to? I feel like I would just be in the way," I retort earning a frown from the red-head._

"_You can stay with me the entire evening if that's what will keep you there." Élise makes herself comfortable on the bed before ushering for me to undress. "Hurry up and change!"_

_I'm sure my cheeks have turned scarlet by now; however, the girl does not seem to notice or it was her intended goal. "Would you mind giving me some privacy?" I question, but she merely smiles._

"_When did you start becoming so shy?"_

"_If I remember correctly, I've never stopped. You just like to barge into my room."_

"_Just get dressed."_

_Knowing that I am not about to win an argument with the red-head, I stroll over to the other side of the closet and press myself against the wall until I am sure the girl could no longer see me. I reluctantly take off my shirt and pull the clean white one over my head before covering the material with a black coat. I stay in my black pants, but I exchange my boots for white stockings and black buckled shoes._

"_See?" Élise says while standing from the bed as I exit my hiding place. "Not so bad."_

_My cheeks feel like they are on fire as the girl approaches me and helps tie my cravat. I watch her skillful hands in envy as she is able to effortlessly handle the fabric and make a perfect knot. Every time I observe her, I can't help but question why her father is brining her into our mad world. François de la Serre had the means to allow her an easy life, but instead, he pulls her into the chaotic mess when he could find a suitable husband for her future. _

"_What are you grinning about?" Élise questions as she examines my form._

"_Nothing," I reply as it is my turn to study her. Although we have spent the past several years together, it's like she is always new to me. _

_The red-head gives a toothy grin before wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling our faces closer until our lips touch. Her kisses are always so soft and inviting that I sometimes forget that we can not be this way. So long as our two orders exist, this 'fling' could never be anything more than what it was: a temporary engagement. _

_Élise is the one separate us before touching our forehead's together. "We should probably get to the party before someone comes looking for us."_

"_There's no rush," I whisper onto her lips as I wrap my arm around her waist and initiate another kiss._

_Her lips instantly sync with my own as we loose track of the world around us. There are nights when all I want is for us to run away together. Then there are times when I believe I can convince Monsieur de la Serre for her hand in marriage as a sign of longing peace, but these were just childish thoughts. There is going to be a time when we can no longer keep up this secret relationship, but for now, I might as well enjoy it._

_A knock on the door separates our two figures and with quick-wit, Élise pretends to straighten my suit as the door opens to reveal her father. I swallow back the nervous lump in my throat as he eyes the two of us before his gaze lands on his daughter._

"_The guests are waiting for you, Élise," Monsieur de la Serre announces as the girl turns to face him. _

"_If Arno knew how to properly dress himself, I would have been down there sooner," she responds in a mocking manner. I send a glare her way, but her brilliant mind just saved us from an awkward explanation. _

"_Élise needs to learn that not everything has to be perfect," I add to the charade. _

_François de la Serre just sighs at our bickering before ushering us to follow. "May I ask that you two leave your disagreements alone until the soirée is over. Any arguments can be pushed aside for a few hours."_

"_Yes, sir," we both mumble in unison. _

_As soon as his back is turned towards us, Élise plants a quick kiss on my cheek before following her father out of the room. I stay behind for several moments to relax my thoughts before exiting into the corridor. Despite the party taking place on the first floor, the voices of the crowd can be clearly heard from my location. I know it's only for the night, but I already want the event to be over and done with. _

_None of the guests greet me as I stride through the groups of people. I do not have much of a title since we Assassins normally avoid such attention; however, some of the younger girls giggle as I pass them by. Did I have something on my face? I ask my red-haired companion, but she brushes the topic aside as if it is nothing to worry about. Now I really question what is going on._

_I stay close to Élise while the party continues on through the night until everyone grows tired from the festivities. From time to time, my friend excuses herself from my side to go speak with her father, but he merely ushers back to the party before going back to discussing matters with his colleagues. Although clearly agitated by Monsieur de la Serre's disregards, we continue to enjoy the evening until they fun begins to subside and the guests yearn to depart. The birthday girl, upon noticing the low number of people, drags me away from the festivities and into her father's study pass the library. The red-head closes the doors behind us before locking them and checking the windows. What has gotten into her?_

"_Is something troubling you?" I question._

"_I thought we should speak privately about certain matters," she speaks up, but her eyes continue to flicker to every possible opening in the room._

_I raise a brow. "Does this have to do with the Marquis' son? He doesn't seem interested-"_

"_It's not about the suitors, Arno!" She finally turns to gaze at me; however, her focus is still elsewhere. "It's about our relationship."_

"_What?" I ask dumbfounded._

_She gives a sad smile. "Did we really believe this was going to work? This 'friendship' of ours?"_

"_Élise, when did this-"_

_The red-head holds up a hand to stop me before she continues her announcement. "After today, I will begin my training to become a Templar. You are already on your way to become a Master Assassin, and we can not keep this up if we are to fulfill our father's legacy."_

"_Élise-"_

_Her eyes snap over to the wall behind me as her expressions becomes that of worry. I am not ready for the palms of her hands to shove against my chest harshly which sends me a few steps backwards._

"_Do not say my name like we are friends!" she hollers as she shoves me once more; this time with more force. "We are not allies! We are enemies!" _

_My heart clenches in my chest as I do not know how to react to this sudden change in behavior. One moment we are enjoying each other's company, and now she proclaims we are never to be together again. I try my best to speak to her, but she wont hear me out. What happened to her during the span of the party? Everything was fine until she spoke with her father? Did he say something to her?_

_Élise glances one last time behind me before mouthing two words and giving me one last shove. My back hit's the stone railing of the balcony before my body flips over the side and the hands of gravity take me into its grasp. I see the tassel of red hair appear over the edge while watery-green eyes widen in fear. Her worrisome expression is the last thing I see before my back hits the top of the hedges in the jardin below. _

X

_July 15, 1789_

_Paris_

I wake with a jolt as I leave the dream world behind and enter reality. Sweat pours from every inch of my body due to the summer heat even in the early hours of the morning. A sigh escapes my lips as I remember what I am supposed to do today. According to Mirabeau, Élise wants to meet in _Les Halles _market outside of the _L'Église St-Eustache _in order to discuss negotiations for the future of our Orders. I can not foretell how much use I will be in this matter, but the Council is convinced that it is for the best that I represent our Brotherhood rather than one of them.

With a groan, I pull the covers away before sliding out of bed. My feet drag along the floor as I stride over to my closet and pull the clean Assassin Robes from the cabinet. I know I am going to dread the dark coat in the sun; however, I do not have many light color options to choose from. Perhaps one day I will make it an objective to get some new clothes tailored, but for now, I dress in my usual outfit and exit the _Café Théâtre_.

The journey from _Île de la Cité _to _Les Halles _is not a terribly long walk, but today, the travel felt dreadful. The excuses range from the merciless heat to the impending meeting I did not wish to attend. Maybe if it were not just us two discussing the matter, I would not feel such anxiety; however, something about being with her wrenches my gut into a knot. Must be the trust issues.

As I finally approach the market place, my senses automatically heighten as I search for the red-head. The crowds were thick despite the hour of the day making it harder to locate Élise if she is here. Had the woman been more specific in her arrangement, this would be easier on the two of us, but I'm sure this is payback for not telling her where to find me after her father passed.

Knowing that I had no chance of finding her in this group, I wander over into a nearby _café _and find a seat by the window. If the woman was trained correctly she would expect to find me in a nearby business that would be filled to the brim with patrons. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book to avoid an unwanted attack, but I could only hope that she taught well.

An hour passes and several customers come and go, but Élise still has yet to show. Perhaps the woman planned on meeting this afternoon. She was never one to rise early and it would not astound me if the bad habit was never broken. After another hour, I feel the restless night catch up with my form as my eyes begin to droop. The exhausting heat is also no help, but I tell myself to bear through it for just a tad longer. I'm sure if she really wants to negotiate terms with the Assassins, she can come find me at my home.

The seconds hand on my pocket watch ticks slowly by as the hour draws to an end. I sigh as I place the mechanism back in the pocket of my white waistcoat before finishing off the rest of my coffee. I am just about to stand when I hear a pair of heels halt beside my table. My eyes travel upwards until I see the familiar tassel of red hair while a smile plays at the woman's lips.

"I almost thought you were not going to show," she says as she takes a seat across from me.

"I was beginning to think the same," I retort as I examine her.

Although her appearance seems normal, the fatigue in her eyes gives away her true nature. She must have been up all night, or perhaps she did not sleep well. We sit in silence while the world remains loud around us. I can only assume she is also afraid to be the first to start the discussion, but I honestly do not know what to say.

"So…" she starts, but instantly stops.

"So?" I question.

The red-head clears her throat before pulling a letter from a pouch along her belt and places it on the table. "As you mentioned before, I was never ceremonially accepted into the Templar Order; therefore, I can not be the official representative. "

I take the envelope into my hands and read the inputs that Lafrenière wished to place into the negotiations before placing the letter back on the table. "Says here that he is giving you full powers for the establishment of the treaty."

"What?" she mutters before snatching the letter and reads through the words quickly. "This isn't like him at all."

"He gave you the envelope himself?"

She nods while rereading the content once more. "With the growing issues within the Order, he said he was going to put his faith in me for this task, but I did not plan on him giving me full rights."

"Do you think you can handle the responsibility?"

Élise finally gazes back at me while placing the letter back on the table. "I do not doubt myself, but…do you?"

"I will not lie," I retort as I lean back in my chair. "I do not believe I am the right man for the job, but you told the Council you wanted me as the representative, so here I am."

Her watery-green eyes examine me once more before our eyes meet again. "You asked me to trust you, and that's what I am doing."

I bite the inside of my lip before leaning forward and resting my elbows on the table. "Then shall we begin?"


	7. The Game Begins

**I'm gonna start by saying I'm sorry for the long wait, but after receiving Far Cry 4 and Dragon Age: Inquisition for Christmas, can you blame me for forgetting about my other responsibilities? And now that Dead Kings is right around the corner, I will be crying in the corner as I remember all the sad things that happened to Arno and what to expect with his emotional journey in the DLC. **

**Anyway, for anyone curious or has asked, I have been working on an Original Female Character for this year's new Assassin story, and she is for the most part developed. I already have the first three chapters of her back story written, and now we await for E3. **

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 6: The Game Begins

_January 4__th__, 1791_

_Café Théâtre_

It's been a year and nearly six months since the Templars and Assassins have agreed to re-establish the truce set by François de la Serre. Despite my objections, I forced myself to meet with Élise every month in order to manage the updates happening within each Order. Although all has been well between us, we were not always civil. The red-head still had her spats about the Brotherhood and no matter my attempts to find an even compromise, she is making it difficult to keep the powers equal. At this pace, we would be better suited going back to our old ways.

The sun penetrates through the thin gap between my drapes, and without fail, lands directly on my eyes. I groan in annoyance before pulling the covers over my head and try to fall asleep; however, someone else had another idea. As soon as I am comfortable again, the blanket is ripped from my body, allowing the winter chill to rake my body with its freezing fingertips. I prop one eye open to catch a glimpse of red before groaning once more and rolling over to face my back towards the woman.

"It's nearly noon and you are still sleeping?" she huffs.

"I arrived home nearly an hour ago after a four day assignment. Allow me the luxury of sleep," I retort as I daze in and out of consciousness.

"Gabriel Sivert has finally crawled out of his hole," Élise states, earning my interest. I roll onto my back and gaze at the woman who holds a serious expression in her features. "It seems he has business with a man named Duchesneau this afternoon at the _Cathédrale Notre-Dame_."

Gabriel Sivert had always been a nuisance for the Assassins, but upon discovering his involvement with _Monsieur _de la Serre's death, he is now wanted by both Orders. Dead or alive. He had disappeared without a trace shortly after that night at the _soirée, _and according to scout reports, he had been clever about covering his tracks. The rest of the Templar traitors also went underground after the incident, leaving us with little to no information about who we were dealing with.

"Shouldn't you be informing Lafrenière of this matter rather than I?" I question.

"I would, but this may be our only opportunity to catch him, and although I hate to admit it, I need your help getting into the _Cathédrale _undetected."

My eyes narrow as I piece together her plan. "You need a decoy?" I ask, trying to obtain as much information as she is willing to give.

Élise presses her lips into a thin line, giving me all the clues I need. She wants to go in alone and take on the traitor herself, but a dagger in broad daylight will have her cut down in an instant. If I do know her well, then she will set me up as soon as we are inside; however, if I disagree, we will both lose our chance to see Sivert detained.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I lazily pull my legs over the edge of the bed and stretch my aching muscles. "I know a path into the building through the sewers," I announce while standing from the bed and searching for my missing shirt. "It will place us away from the mass, but there will still be guards patrolling the area."

"The guards are not an issue, it's Sivert's men we need to worry about," Élise states as I pull a shirt over my head before grabbing my white waistcoat from the closet. "He's paid several mercenary groups nearly a King's Ransom for protection."

"Which is why we will enter from beneath the _Cathédrale," _I remark.

The woman merely gives me a sour expression, but I pay no mind to the look as I finish dressing. We do not exchange anymore words as Élise follows my figure out of the _chambre, _down the flight of stairs, and into the city. I contemplate several times about trying to lose her within the growing crowd surrounding _Notre-Dame, _but she will not allow it so easily, nor would I get away without consequences. I need to think of a solution and fast.

"You are walking quite slow," the red-head states as she strides ahead of me. "Not like you to move at _l'escargo _pace."

"I did say that I had just returned home," I retort, and although it was not the true reason, it plays in my favor as I try to think of plan to keep her out of the _Cathédrale. _

She huffs while placing her hands on her hips. "By the time we get inside, Sivert will have ended his meeting with Duchesneau and we will have lost our only chance."

"Fine," I sigh as I move at her pace. "Let's just finish this quickly."

Without another word, I lead the woman around the left side of _l'église _and the two of us enter into the cemetery. There are only a handful of guards patrolling the area, but they pay no mind to Élise or I as we casually march pass the gravestones and towards a manhole located off to the side. I'm the first to enter, and I do not make it half-way through the entrance when the sight of two men catches the red-head's eye. I quickly wrap my fingers around her wrist after she pulls a blade from her belt, and despite her attempts to break free, I do not allow it.

"What are you doing?" I question as my eyes flicker from her to the men.

"That is Duchesneau!" she whispers as she tries shake my hand away. "If I kill him now, we can gain the advantage."

"There are too many mercenaries here," I remark while tightening my grip. "Doing so will alert them."

"It's worth the risk."

"No it's not."

I honestly did not expect her to retaliate like she did until her fist makes contact with my jaw. My vice-like grip immediately loosens allowing her to break free and scurry away before I can make sense of what just happened. Still in shock, I glance up as the red-head nears the Templar who now stands alone and out of the sight of the guards. The woman does not hesitate to sneak up behind the man, grab him by the shoulder, and sink the blade into his neck. The kill is quick and clean, and in an instant, Élise is back at my side with a satisfied smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

"See? Worth the risk," she mutters while suppressing her laughter.

I give her a scowl while rubbing the sore spot on my cheek. "You did not have to punch me."

"Yeah, I did."

Taking my loss with what remaining dignity I have left, I slide down the ladder and land in the sewer below. Élise is slow to follow after, but as soon as she joins me, her nose wrinkles in disgust. The woman pulls a white handkerchief from her coat and places it over her face to help filter the putrid smell; however, it does not seem to work in her favor.

"How can you stand the stench?" the red-head chokes as we venture forth.

"You have spent too many years in a room being lectured about the world rather than exploring it for yourself," I reply. "Assassins are supposed to live like the people. We suffer as they suffer and we help fight against the oppression. This smell is nothing compared to _la_ _Cour des Miracles._"

"The rat hole you mean?"

I give her a side-way glance, but immediately snap my attention to the path ahead of us. "It's far worse than that."

She says nothing more as we stride side by side towards the underground entrance to the _Cathédrale. _As we draw closer, I stop the woman before pointing at a symbol etched into the wall.

"There should be a loose stone that will open a passageway," I announce. "It will not be very large and can easily be overlooked."

Élise rolls her eyes like a child being lectured. "I get it. Keep an eye open."

Her figure never leaves my line of sight as I watch her focus on the task at hand. I wait until she is completely lost in concentration before pressing the switch, slipping into the church, and close the passageway behind me. She calls my name, but it is instantly muffled as the stone slides back into place. I know I just made a mistake by leaving her down there, but I can deal with the ramifications later. Despite the punishment she will give me later, I'm doing this for her own protection.

Lying low, I avoid taking the life of the patrolling guards, and instead, slip past them as I search for my target's location. Enhancing my senses, a glint of gold shines from the crowd gathered around the altar; however, it quickly maneuvers through the people and heads right towards my location. The alarming bells of panic cause my eyes to flicker from Sivert to the area around me. My instincts cut off all thoughts causing my body to automatically rush towards a hay wagon and disappear within the straw. The place wasn't exactly ideal, but no one seemed to notice my strange behavior as they were too focused on the speech given by the priest.

Footsteps draw closer and words are exchanged in hushed whispers, but I only needed one word in order to devise a plan: confessional. Sivert must have made arrangements to meet Duchesneau within the booth as a cover for his operations. I'll have to give the man some credit: not many of the street-worn lackeys of the Templar Order are smart enough to think of meeting place outside of a dark alley; nonetheless, he has been clever enough to outrun the Assassins for this long. I will have to be careful. Making sure the coast is clear, I leap from my hiding spot and easily sneak pass the mercenaries before entering the confessional.

"Everything's in place," I mutter so the man can not tell the difference in my voice.

"Finally saw reason, did he? What's our cut?" Sivert questions with a rushed tone. He must already know that news of his arrival back in Paris is spreading.

"Thirty percent."

"Good. Good," he mutters. "This is our moment, my friend. Petty nobles are ripe enough fruits, but the Church has been leeching off the people for centuries. If we crack their vaults, the Grand Master cannot fail to recognize our work."

"As you say, _Monsieur._"

"Good."

I hear the wood beneath him creak as he begins to stand from his chair, but I do not allow another motion from him as my arm burst through the wood separating us and my hidden blade sinks into the skin under his jaw. The world around us slows as if time itself has stopped while the images of Sivert's memories flow through my head. I never quite understood this 'gift' or what ever the Council calls it, but they say it was granted to me by my ancestors from a time long forgotten. I do not know if I will ever believe such a outlandish tale; however, I can not deny that it came from somewhere.

I grunt in pain as the images move swiftly in front of my eyes, causing a headache that feels as though someone has driven a sword through my skull. The sight of Sivert and _Monsieur _de la Serre is the first to appear, but it instantly fades to an underground entrance where a small, lanky man waits rather impatiently.

"_Monsieur La Touche. I'm here to see the King of Beggars," _Sivert announces before being escorted inside.

The image disappears and now he is entering into a decrepit loft underneath the city where a man dressed in a tattered, formal coat and an overly, powdered face paces the room. He shouts and hollers, but his voice is muffled within the memory. Like smoke, the sewer is gone and I am at the _Château des Versailles. Monsieur _de la Serre slices his sword down the left side of Sivert's face, but his small victory is fruitless as the white face of the King of Beggars shows itself from the shadows and sinks a small blade into the Grand Master's neck. François de la Serre drops to his knees and Sivert moves in to strike the killing blow, but his companion ushers him to follow as my form descends from _palais. _

Sivert gurgles as the last of his breath escapes, severing myself from his memories. I pull my blade from his skin and contemplate on the mess I just witnessed. Élise said he had an accomplice, or at least, that is what the letters she received said; however, neither Sivert nor _le_ _Roi des Thunes _were intelligent enough to plan this on their own. Lafrenière has dismissed all claims that he was involved in _Monsieur _de la Serre's murder, but who else with influence within the Order would be able to plan such an attack?

Saving the thought, I step outside of the confessional as the mercenary patrol circles to the other side of the altar. I take a breath to relax before moving to leave the _Cathédrale; _however, I had forgotten about the National Guard who had men stationed around the church as well. With the growing revolution and the citizens on edge about the new factions, it would only be reasonable for the men to call out the one citizen with weapons strapped to his waist.

Adrenaline courses though my veins as I dash for the construction lift and cut the rope holding the crate over our heads. The weight of the box pulls the rope down, launching my form upwards and onto the balcony of the second floor. The people below scream in terror as the crate burst upon impact with the ground sending citizens running for the door of the church. Without hesitance, I make my escape out of one of the windows and stand along the edge of the roof. The winter wind blows harshly at my form as I examine my options of escape. The buildings surrounding the _Cathédrale _are too far for anyone to leap to, and I am unlucky to find no quick route down the side of the architecture.

Mercenary soldiers are now crowding around the window as they exit one by one. Just one option left: take a leap of faith. The wind presses gently on my back as I dive towards a bakery across the street from the church. My body falls short of the side of the building, but I manage to grab a hold of the shop sign before it cracks under the pressure of my weight. My back hit's a beam while the tearing of fabric reaches my ears before I begin falling once more into the stalls below. The wooden carriages break beneath me, leaving my bruised form buried underneath the destruction I had caused.

As my vision fades in and out, the sounds of bells alert the city of my crime while the screams of citizens rush pass the shop. I attempt to push myself from the ground, but gravity has me too far into its embrace to let go. The only thing left to do is wait.


	8. Le Roi des Thunes

**Hey guys, this is just a small filler chapter before I get to the next important part in the story. **

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 7: Le Roi des Thunes

_January 6__th__, 1791_

_Café Théâtre_

It's difficult to tell which woke me up first: the pain or the constant shouting happening somewhere nearby. My eyelids are heavy as I try to open them, but even so, my vision is far to blurry to be able to see anything. A searing heat courses though my skull while agony rakes my body as I attempt to sit up, but the plush mattress seems to hold onto my form, preventing me from moving any further. I part my lips to call out to the arguing figures outside of the room; however, my dry throat will not allow anything above a whisper. At least I know I am in the safety of my home, but how did I get here?

The voices fade away and an eerie silence follows. Thinking that they had finally ended their debate, I attempt once more to get out of bed, but I do not make it far before the door flies open and a woman barges into the room. The red-head, upon noticing my woken form, rushes to my side before pressing on my bare chest until I'm lying fully against the mattress.

"Finally awake, pisspot?" Bellec's voice calls out from the doorway.

"What happened?" I rasp causing the woman to fetch a glass of water from my bed-side table.

She is kind enough to help me drink, but as soon as I down the contents of the glass, she drops my head against the pillow causing it to ache worse. "Your stupid actions not only caused a panic on the streets, but you managed to destroy a bakery shop while running from the guards," the woman remarks. "Had my men not arrived when they did, you would be suffering from more than a broken arm and a few fractured ribs."

"You have my thanks," I mutter as I press the palm of my hand against my forehead, hoping that the pressure would cease the pain.

Bellec marches further into the room and stands at the foot of my bed while pointing out at _Île de la Cité. _"That mess you made was reckless! And to make matters worse, you went after Sivert without first contacting the Council, and now you've gone and pissed them off!"

"And what was I supposed to do? Let him get away?" I question as I ignore the agony and sit up to glare at my former mentor.

"Enough!" Élise interjects. "He is right that what you did was utterly idiotic; however-" The woman turns and gazes at Pierre. "-we could not afford letting him get away again. Although I wanted him alive-" It is now my turn to receive a glare from the red-head. "-for interrogation, it's good knowing his death will benefit future actions."

"Future actions for who? The Templars?" Pierre questions.

"For both of our Orders," she retorts with annoyance dripping from her tone. "If I recall, Sivert has been interfering with Assassin plans for years, but because of the truce and him under my father's protection, you could do nothing about it."

"And what does his death gain you?" Bellec spits.

"An opportunity."

"You are going to have to be more specific."

"No, I do not."

I rub my temples to stave off the growing headache, but it is difficult to continue after a shock of excruciating pain pulses through my right arm. "Could you two please settle your disagreements for now?" I ask causing them both to turn to gaze at me. "Sivert had an accomplice the night of François de la Serre's death. If we can find him, he may lead us to the person responsible for all of this."

"You interrogated Sivert in the short time you were in the church?" Élise questions with skepticism.

"Right," Bellec drawls. "We'll use the word 'interrogate.'"

Élise glares at the assassin before turning towards me once more. "Who is it?"

"Le Roi des Thunes," I reply. The red-head appears confused, but Pierre groans in annoyance.

"And here I though we would have a rich aristocrat to take out," he mutters.

"Who is the man?" Élise questions.

"A rat that we have never been able to catch," my former mentor states. "He has people all over the city, but no one outside of his inner circle has ever seen his face. All business is exchanged by his spineless worm."

"La Touche," I say, earning a nod from Bellec.

"So we find his associate, get him to talk, and go after this rat," the woman speaks up.

"It's not that easy," I remark.

"You are saying this to the men who have spent the past several years smoking the sewers to get him out of his hole," Bellec inputs. "We quit sending men in when they quit coming back."

"You lose men to this bastard and then consider it not worth investigating?" Élise inquires.

"With the revolution and recent problems with fascist groups, he became the least of our worries," I state.

"A man who proclaims himself a King of Beggars is considered too low for your priorities?"

Bellec takes a step towards the woman and points at the open door to the balcony. "Look out there, princess. There are people starving and dying for their beliefs because they refuse to bow down to the new ideals that the crazed anarchists want for France. A man who has to proclaim himself a king is not worthy of the title. He is a bastard with no real power and hides away in some shit hole because he is too afraid to face the terrors of the world. He is just another lowly criminal."

"A lowly criminal who killed my father," Élise growls before pushing Pierre aside and exiting the room.

"I fear she is about to do something reckless," I say as Bellec returns his attention to my broken figure.

"Not my problem," he mutters.

I take in a deep breath, but the action sends waves of pain through my ribcage causing me to flinch. "Now that she is gone: what exactly happened after I killed Sivert?"

Bellec's expression falls into a serious one as he leans against the wall while crossing his arms over his chest. "The brat said she found you under a pile of wood in front of the bakery you destroyed. Several of her Templar associates were already en route to meet her at the _Cathédrale_ when you fell. She could have left you there, but it seems she is kind enough to save your sorry arse."

"If she had people meeting her there, why did she ask me to assist her?"

He shrugs. "She's a Templar. Probably needed you as a target for the guards that were there, but do not think much on it. You're never going to be able to understand women."

My eyes fall to my folded hands in my lap as I recall the memories. "She is not as ready as she thinks she is. Had I not taken her place, she would have rushed in there and killed him in front of the mass. Then she would be dead and negotiations for a truce would have ended."

"Despite my fiery passion of hatred towards the girl, she is more clever than we both give her credit for. She may want to go after that rat, but we know she will not make it far without the help of the Assassins."

I nod in understanding. "I hope you're right."

X

_January 14__th__, 1791_

_Café Théâtre_

I sit alone at my usual table as I await for the arrival of my Templar associate. Élise is not one to be late, especially for a meeting she announced herself, but the woman still had yet to show. My hands fidget at the need to check my pocket watch once more, but I push down the urge knowing that time will not speed up by doing so. Where could she be?

My eyes catch a movement at the entrance to the _Café; _however, it was only an older gentleman with his suit wrinkled and a nasty bruise forming on his cheek. His eyes dart across the room before his focus lands on my figure. His stride is quick, and upon stopping at my table, he bows respectively while taking off his hat to show his balding head.

"_Monsieur _Dorian," he starts with a frantic tone. "_Je suis _Charlie; a servant of House de la Serre."

"Is something wrong?" I question.

"It's Lady Élise, _Monsieur," _he replies. "She was taken when several men broke into her home."

"Taken?" My hand instantly covers my ribcage as my injuries remind me not to move too quickly while I stand from my chair.

"_Oui, Monsieur. _She ordered me to find you while she held them off…I should have stayed when I saw them overpowering her…"

"Did she say anything else?"

His eyes widen before he nods. "She said to tell you that: 'the rat is hiding in the catacombs.'"

"_Merci,_" I say as I pass the man. "Now go find a doctor and check on the conditions of the estate. Make sure no one else was hurt in the skirmish."

"_Oui, Monsieur._"

With that, the man is gone and back out into the city. I grind my teeth together as I ascend the flight of stairs and hurry into my _chambre _where my attire has gone unworn for the past week. It hurts to move, let alone dress; however, I do not have any other choice if I wanted to find Élise alive. Checking to make sure I am fully prepared for this endeavor, I exit the room and nearly collide with another figure.

"_Désolé, _Arno," Vincent greets as he examines my form. "I thought you were ordered by the Council to remain resting."

"Change of plans," I remark as I pass him, but he stays at my heels as I descend to the first floor. "Élise has been captured by _le Roi des Thunes. _He must not be taking any chances since news of Sivert's death has spread throughout Paris."

"And you want to go after him with those injuries?" my axe-wielding friend questions causing me to stop and turn to look at him.

"Losing Élise will destroy the truce. Lafrenière has been very specific about this," I retort. "You can join me or let me go on my own; the choice is yours."

He growls in annoyance before sighing. "If you are going to do something stupid again, I will get the others."

I nod before turning to face northward. "Meet me in _la Cour des Miracles _as soon as possible."


	9. Le Roi est Mort

**Hey guys, sorry if this chapter seems a bit rushed, but I am about to be away from a computer for the next week, so I thought it would be better if I posted what I have now rather than put it off for another week. Once again: sorry if it is bad.**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 8: Le Roi est Mort

_January 14__th__, 1791_

_La Cour des Miracles_

Vincent, Laron, Adrian, and I rendezvous on a rooftop in the center of the decrepit district just as the sun descends beyond the horizon. Unlike the rest of Paris, this part of the city held no shame and housed a variety of patrons from prostitutes to bankrupt accountants who lost their fortune to gambling. The worst of criminals are born from this district, and somewhere in all of this hides _le Roi des Thunes._

"We have quite an perimeter to search," Adrian states with a sigh.

"The servant said he would be in the catacombs," I remark as I note the many men surrounding the church to our north. At first glance, it is difficult to identify the citizens as nothing more than a few drunks, but upon inspection, their true nature became more apparent.

"Hired mercenaries," Vincent says as he glances down at the same group of people. "Is there an entrance to the underground nearby?"

"Right behind _l'église,_" Laron responds. "Not very smart of them to give us a trail to the door."

My eyes leave the church as I examine the rest of the area. Citizens beg the mercenaries to let them pass through the district, but they are pushed away and threatened to leave. Further down the street, homeless patrons sit around a hole in the ground as smoke filters out, allowing for warmth on this chilly night. If we plan this correctly, we may gain the full advantage and finally put an end to _le Roi_'s reign.

"We need to split up," I announce, earning my companions' attention. "Vincent and I will cover the smoke while you two eliminate the patrol keeping the citizens off the premises."

In a silent understanding, we descend from the rooftop, with I being the slowest due to my injuries, and we each blend with the people. The faction members eye Vincent and I several times during our movement through the small courtyard, but their attention returns to the other citizens as we pretend to seek heat next to the holes where the black fumes ascend from. I give the mercenaries a moment to forget about our presence before signaling my companion and the two of us use nearby stacks of wood to cover the vents. The homeless protest, but a few coins in their hands seizes their complaints before we retreat to find our comrades.

Both Laron and Adrian await our arrival along the wall of the cemetery as citizens pile into the unguarded streets, confusing the hired men around the church. The green-cloaked Assassin is the one to lead us over the wall and towards the entrance of the catacombs before we each disappear into the underground. Three guards lean lazily against the wall at the far end of the tunnel and fall easily to our blades. Upon first glance, the catacombs appear like a red herring, but a loose stack of wood reveals a man-made hole into the sewers below.

"Perhaps splitting again would give us the advantage," Laron states, but Adrian shakes his head.

"We joined this crusade to make sure lover boy here doesn't get himself killed," Vincent inputs.

"Lover boy?" I question, earning a chuckle from the others. "Are you insinuating that I am infatuated with Élise?"

"Exert your feelings, Arno," Laron mocks.

"It's alright to be in love with her," Adrian jokes. "Former Assassins and Templars have married before in the past."

The corners of my lips turn downward as I turn away from them and lead the way through the sewers. "Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand."

"As you command, lover boy."

I roll my eyes while silence distills in the air. A few guards wander alone in the darkness, but we easily bypass them without the need to spill unneeded blood. At first, we travel slowly, watching our prey with careful eyes to avoid alarming them; however, as time traverses on, the visibility of the tunnels become more difficult for anyone to see. The four of us instantly pull a piece of fabric from our coats and tie the cloth over our mouth and nose in order to filter the smoke from blocking our ability to breathe properly.

We near another section of the sewers that opens into a circular pathway with bars blocking us from getting into what has become a makeshift loft. Vincent and Laron crawl up to the bars while Adrian and I stay several paces behind them to reduce being seen.

"My lord!" the voice of an all too familiar worm calls as his footsteps echo off the damp stone. "Th-the woman! S-she…uh, tricked the guards…a-and now she has e-escaped!"

"She what?" another man questions. "I entrusted you with her care!"

"I-I know, m-my lord," the smaller weasel stutters. "B-but she is the daughter of _Monsieur _de la Serre. She m-must be just as manipulative as her father."

Oh, she is far worse than that.

"If Élise has escaped, then she will be on her way here," I whisper to our small group. "Keep an eye out for her, but do not let _le Roi des Thunes _get away."

The four of us fall into position and spread out along the sewers as we sneak around the perimeter and into the entrance of the loft area. Some of the mercenaries huddle lazily around a table as they play a game of cards while several others drink themselves into stupor. Before any of them can register our presence, we blend into the shadows and circle around the premises until we have the place surrounded.

"I believe she is on her way here," the worm states, earning a smirk from _le Roi. _

"But we have the advantage now, don't we?" the powdered-face rat questions while motioning for La Touche to stand. "Muster the guard and lead the hunt for the girl, and keep her alive. We need her breathing."

La Touche hesitantly bows before ordering some of the men to follow him out of the sewers while the rat stays behind and takes a seat at his 'throne.' Adrian is the first to retrieve a small sphere from a pouch on his waist and the rest of us follow his actions. A nod is exchanged between us before we light the fuses and toss them into the center of the loft. Sputters and coughs erupt shortly after, signaling us to move in. Enhancing my senses, I note the retching figure on the ground next to his seat before rushing to his side and sinking my blade into the artery in his neck.

Just like with Sivert, the room disappears and a splitting ache throbs at my temples. A vision of _Monsieur _de la Serre appears before me while two men bow before him in his home. In the front was _le Roi des Thunes _with La Touche slightly behind him to his left.

"My subjects have eyes everywhere, my lord," the King of Beggars announces with open arms. "I offer their knowledge to the service of the Order."

"What knowledge could a king of the gutters offer us? The intrigues of rats?" _Monsieur _de la Serre questions which earns a laugh from the other men in the room.

"You may go," François waves before leaving the man in the foyer.

The _château _fades and _le Roi des Thunes _is here in this room with fire burning in his eyes as he paces the area. "The intrigue of rats?" he hollers as he notices the newcomer approaching him. "Pompous fool! If I could lay my hands on him…"

Sivert's features become more prominent as he lifts his head from under the brim of his hat as he glances upward to stare at the King of Beggars. "My master would be pleased to arrange that, brother."

We are back the _Château des Versailles _after _Monsieur _de la Serre brought his cutlass down upon Sivert's face. The rat is quick to materialize from the shadows and take advantage of François' victory as he plunges a thin pin into the Grand Master's neck. Like before, he falls to his knees and the two make their escape as I exit the _palais. _The image is gone and now _le Roi des Thunes _and Sivert kneel before a new man whose face is covered by the darkness of his hood.

"It is done," Sivert states. "De la Serre is dead…Grand Master."

Grand Master?

More questions arise while the answers I seek now become only part of a bigger picture. With a last breath, the King of Beggars lets out a cry of pain before becoming motionless on the floor. I stumble away from his lifeless corpse as the world renews around me. Laron is the first voice to reach my ears before the sound of metal clashing against one another echoes loudly off the walls. All visibility is now gone as the smoke gathers into the loft, making it harder for everyone to breathe.

"Get out of here!" I order while enhancing my senses.

My companions stagger in the darkness as they push away from the mercenaries and fumble towards the exit. While my comrade's forms shine blue through the darkness, the hired men appear red; however, through my scan of the sewers, a newly golden figure slowly stumbles our direction.

Élise…

Knowing that my brothers will find the exit on their own, I wisp my way towards the woman as she turns in place. The body of _le Roi des Thunes _lies at her feet while she sputters and coughs as the fumes in the loft grow thicker. I know it is a mistake to approach her as quickly as I did; especially in this situation, and it didn't occur to me until her fist nearly collides with my jaw.

"Élise!" I call causing her to freeze out of shock.

"Arno? What…How…?" she questions.

I untie my red, silk cravat and loosely wrap it around her face until it securely covers her nose and mouth. Her watery-green eyes search blindly through the smoke for my form, but I'm sure it is impossible for her to see. Without a word, I take her by the hand and we both maneuver further into the sewers - pass burning woodpiles and dying guards - until a wall, held up by a weakly balanced wooden plank stands between us and my comrades.

"Go under," I command, and despite her protesting stare, the woman does as she is told.

I watch with my enhanced senses as both Laron and Vincent's forms help Élise to her feet before stepping away from the small exit. With a heavy breath, I take a few paces backwards before making a running start at the small hole and sliding beneath the structure while grabbing hold of the plank of wood. The wall topples behind me causing dirt and debris to replace the smoke in the air. I hear the voices of my companions, but my senses are now gone, leaving me blind through the haze. A hand grabs at my shoulder while another grips my forearm before pulling me upwards.

"Now that was exciting," Laron announces. "You should invite us more often."

My hand instantly moves to cover my aching ribs while my useless right arm dangles at my side where the splint had broken from the slide. It hurts to move but I do not dare show the pain.

"We should inform the Council that _le Roi est mort_," I say as I lead the group up a flight of stairs and into _la Cour des Miracles. _

"Sounds like a plan," Vincent remarks with a smirk. "The three of us will go on ahead while you two do some catching up like you always do."

Élise and I do not have the time to retort before the three of them take off into the streets. The two of us sigh while the woman removes the cravat from her face before placing her hands on her hips and turning towards me.

"So," she starts, earning my attention. "Do you mind telling me how you knew where to find _le Roi des Thunes?" _

I arc a brow her direction. "You're the one who sent the messenger."

"Messenger?" Now she seems confused. "I've been here for the past several days. I haven't even had contact with Lafrenière."

"He said he was a servant in your home. Charlie?"

"I have not had a servant in two years."

"Then who sent him?"

Our eyes lock as we try to find the lie the other may be telling, but there is nothing there. A cheer from a nearby building breaks the contact while music draws our attention towards the said _bâitment. _Citizens gather with bottles and whores in hand around the premises while inside, people dance in a display of drunken pleasure. Without a word, Élise ventures forth despite my protest, forcing me to follow after her. She does not even bat an eye at the scene as we both enter the building and gaze at the many patrons.

Men and women crowd the small space with little to no clothing-some dance, others are pleasuring one another out in the open with no shame - yet, the red-head does not show any signs of embarrassment. Even after two years, the woman still has trouble seeing me naked, but she has no quarrel with whores and drunks.

The two of us carefully step over an unconscious man before striding the rest of the way towards a couch on the opposite side of the room. A man, dressed in a low cut, white shirt with a green coat and striped breeches lies comfortably against a stack of pillows while eyeing us like an eagle to its prey.

He waves us forth before stretching his arms outwards in a welcoming gesture. "Ah…you are just in time for the commencement of my reign."

"Your reign?" I question as we approach the man.

He gives us a toothy grin. "As long as there's a _Cour des Miracles, _we must have a _Roi des Thunes_. Since there seemed to be a vacancy, I stepped in."

"With remarkable speed," Élise states while her hand brushes the hilt of her sword.

"The body is not yet cold," I input as I do the same.

"I may have set things in motion a trifle early. Say, when you first arrived in _la Cour des Miracles," _he says as he points towards me while standing from the seat. "I've had my eye on you for some time now, Arno. You and your little group of squirrels are that out of a novel, and upon witnessing your actions for myself, I vested interest in seeing the King of Rats caught in a trap."

"You're the one who sent the messenger?" I question as my lips curl downwards into a frown.

"Ah, yes," he replies as he snatches a bottle from a drunkard's hand. "I thought if I had asked for an appointment, you would have declined."

"Well, you are not wrong about that," I growl.

The man merely smiles my way before turning his attention towards Élise. "When I noticed your beautiful face searching for the former _Roi, _I thought it my sovereign duty to aid a woman of such elegance."

"So you used us?" the red-head inquires while her fingers now grip at the handle of her cutlass.

"Is your target not dead?"

"Who are you precisely?" I question as I take a step forward.

The man bows and attempts to kiss Élise's hand, but she pulls away. "I have the pleasure of being Donatien Alphonse François, Marquis de Sade."

Both the red-head and I are forced to take several steps backwards as a nude woman dashes pass us with a man hot on her trail. "Quite the 'kingdom' to inherit," Élise mocks.

The Marquis flashes a smile. "It is, isn't it? There is still plenty of room left on the throne if you would like to join me."

"I would rather be in a snake pit."

"So young, and yet so serious."

Élise and I both exchange a glance before turning away from the man and making our exit. We do not take more than five steps when the Marquis' voice calls out to us again and we both sigh in irritation.

"You have, I trust, looked into this?" he says causing us both to turn and stare at the metal pin in his hand.

"Where did you get that?" the red-head inquires as she returns to de Sade.

"One of my newly loyal subjects brought it to me as a…token of esteem, as it were," he says while lifting the pin up to the light. "It's a curious piece. I know only of one silversmith who works metal like this."

Élise snatches the pin from the Marquis' hand while her eyes narrow in anger. "A blade of this make killed my father. I can only assume that you knew and are playing this like a game."

"Where would a man be if he never had to ask questions?" de Sade inquires while moving to sit next to a woman whose breast hung from her unbuttoned shirt. "If everything he could ever want to know were simply handed to him? He might no longer think to ask questions."

"Or he might accomplish a great deal more, unburdened by ignorance," I interject.

"Perhaps," he retorts while kissing the woman's hand. "The smith's name is François Thomas Germain. You'll find his shop near _Les Halles._"

"Germain?" Élise mutters.

With no forewarning, she is rushes for the door, leaving me behind. I holler after her while slowly following her trail, but my body protests in agony. I'm late catching up, but luckily she had gone no farther as guards surrounding the courtyard of a _château _stop her from venturing further.

"Élise!" I call in a hushed voice as I join her in an alleyway across the street. "What was that about?"

"Arno…François Germain was my father's lieutenant," the red-head announces while turning to stare at me.

"And you could not have said that before running off?" I question as I cover my aching ribs once more. Despite the chill, sweat pours feverishly from my forehead while black dots filter in and out of my vision.

"He was cast out of the Order when I was a girl. Something about heretical notions, or Jacques de Molay…I'm not entirely sure, but he should be dead. He died years ago."

Noting the many mercenaries around the _château, _it is evident something suspicious was happening beyond the walls of the _bâitment. _"Did anyone tell him that?"

"I would very much like to ask him a few questions," she states while moving towards the street, but I grab her by the arm to stop her from moving any further.

It's the last thing I remember doing before darkness covers my sight and my body hits the cobblestone roughly. Élise calls my name, but her voice sounds muffled like noise in water. Both my arm and ribs ache with each breath I take, but the pain soon fades as I can no longer stay awake.


	10. House Arrest

**Hey guys, after a week in the backwoods with no internet or computer all I can say is…it's the worst…**

**Anyway, today (Feb. 3****rd****) is my birthday, so as my gift to you guys, I am giving you a new chapter. **

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 9: House Arrest

_January 16__th__, 1791_

_Maison de la Serre_

Just like my fall after Sivert's death, I wake with blurry vision and a headache that feels as though my skull has split in two. Silk sheets like satin flow beneath my fingers as I pull them from my body while attempting to sit up. The day is new, probably no later than eight in the morning as the sun barely peaks above the buildings outside the window. How long have I been out? And where is Élise?

As my vision clears, I take note of my new surroundings with confusion. The four poster bed I lie in sits in the center of the far wall while a cherry-wood night stand is to my left while a cabinet, open to show my assassin robes, stands tall along the wall to my right. I know this place. The green painted room with white trimming had once been a place I called home, but nine years have come and gone since I was an honored guest in the de la Serre _château. _This was no longer a familiar environment, but a reminder of what my life used to be…what it could have been…

The wooden floorboards creak outside the room as a shadow looms beneath the door. There is no need to enhance my senses since I already know who awaits on the other side. Élise said before that she has not had a servant in two years, and had it been anyone else, they would have opened the door already. There were many memories in this room, and much more in the maroon _chambre _that the red-head called her own.

I used to wonder what would have happened had I forgiven Élise after the fight. I had been so upset with her that after my visit to the hospital, I immediately returned to the Assassin Headquarters before joining my father in Austria. I wrote to her several times afterwards - some were sent while others were tossed - but she never responded. Had our relationship meant that little to her? With a broken heart, I quit writing the letters all together. If she no longer wanted me in her life, then I did not need her in mine.

Funny how fate plays the cards differently…

The door to the room finally creaks open only slightly while a curious emerald eye peers inside. I merely smile before gesturing the woman to enter. She does so meekly, an unusual trait for her, before striding to the left side of the bed. She takes a seat in a vanity chair made of brass with a green cushioning to match the walls. Her eyes examine my figure closely while I do the same with hers.

Judging by the dirt and grim on her coat, I can only assume she has not redressed since the incident. Blood stains the white sleeve on her left arm while a cut adorns her cheek. It isn't deep enough to scar, but enough to raise questions. She did not look like this after I killed _le Roi des Thunes, _so that only left one other answer…

"You went after Germain alone?" I question, throwing the woman off her guard.

Her lips press together in a thin line as she shakes her head slowly. "Not alone," she remarks. "I had two others with me."

"And where are they, may I ask?" I press.

"The situation…got out of hand…"

"So they're dead?"

Her attention falls to her lap. "We were only supposed to go in and question him. However, he had our plan predicted and countered our advancements, but now I know who killed my father."

My eyes widen out of shock. "The silversmith is the one responsible?"

Élise's eyes now narrow while her lips curl downwards. "The bastard had every want to see my father dead. Germain's goals are anti-idealistic and dangerous, but now he has the fools to follow him; which is turning him into a larger threat."

"How did you manage to escape?" I ask.

"Germain like to talk," she remarks with a smirk. "His arrogance hasn't changed. It's good to know."

"We have a name," I state while piecing the puzzle together. "I will contact the Brotherhood-"

"This is Templar business," Élise barks while finally finding the courage to glare at me. "Lafrenière has been anticipating the New Orders movements, and now that we have what we need, the Old Guard can assemble and defeat this corruption."

"And after you succeed?" I question with my anger rising. "The truce stays in place or do we go back to senselessly killing each other? Or what happens if you fail? I'm sure Germain would love to discuss matters with the Assassins over a cup of tea."

The woman's fist clench in her lap as she observes my features closely. "What are you getting at, Arno?"

"Let the Brotherhood help," I say which causes the red-head to roll her eyes. "We have the man-power and weaponry to provide a sufficient army against this crusade."

"So does the Templars!"

"And how many of your men do you trust?"

Eyes as green as lily-pads widen before they narrow once more. "Excuse me?"

Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean back against the headboard while matching her gaze. "If you think the traitors end at Sivert, then you have much more to learn. If Germain managed to get inside one head, how many more do you think he has corrupted?"

"He couldn't have-"

"Couldn't have what? Met with those who felt oppressed or insignificant under your father's reign? This man clearly had some years to plan this endeavor if he chose now to enact his schemes rather than sooner."

At first the woman seems angry at my outburst, but her expression soon falls into defeat. I was right once again. "I've already sent a letter to Mirabeau concerning your health, but I will send another for an appointment… This better be worth my time."

I smirk at my victory. "I can assure it."

A glint of a smile graces her lips, but it does not linger long. "What does happen after this?" she mutters.

My expression also falls as I too am at a loss. "We do what we always have: meet only for political affairs and argue over who will take control over certain matters. We will then find middle ground and agree to terms we dislike, and then have grey hair by the time we are thirty."

She smiles while shaking her head causing her curls to sway. "Sounds like you have the future planned."

"It's not what I want," I say. "But France needs stability and our two Orders bickering in the middle of the chaos will not solve anything."

"What is it that you want?" Élise questions which surprises me.

"I'm not quite sure," I reply truthfully. "A normal life would be nice."

"You're an Assassin, when is life normal?"

A crooked smile plays at my lips as my eyes close in thought. "Normal is when it's just my target and I, his fate judged for him, and there is nothing left but his execution. I do not enjoy the killing, no - quite honestly I hate it - but knowing his death will save thousands puts my mind at ease."

"You would rather be a soldier than a politician?"

"It's…easier," I say while meeting her gaze. "I was always meant to be an Assassin, there is no denying it, but I was never meant for stuffy rooms and old men who will do anything for more coin."

"You believe your place is chasing rats through sewers rather than fighting the source of the problem?"

I nod. "There are those born to lead, those who take the title when it is needed the most, and then there are those who do not rise at all. I like to think of myself as the second category, but I will gladly hand off any power if it means returning to my former life."

"So you would gladly leave me with someone else?"

"If they fit the purpose, why would you want me?"

Élise presses her lips together while her eyes narrow. "I've already told you that I do not trust anyone else in the Brotherhood but you. I could tolerate Mirabeau as my father had, but I would rather avoid it."

"And what if something goes wrong like it did at _Notre-Dame _and luck does not favor my actions? Who will you turn to in my passing?"

She shakes her head. "Do not say that-"

"We live a dangerous occupation," I interrupt. "We can not pretend it will not happen. There is a man out there who wants you and your associates dead, and I'm sure he will not stop once the Old Guard is eliminated."

Élise stands from her chair before moving towards the bed and sitting on the edge. "That may be true," she says as she locks her green eyes with my brown ones. "But I plan on living through this."

And there it is again: that confident smile of hers. It was her signature. Her call to action. I used to love that smile. It is her definition, something no one else could mimic. Now it is only a reminder…

"Good to know," I retort while sitting up straighter. "But may I ask how you managed to get me here?"

"I paid for a carriage. For an Assassin, you are quite heavy."

"I do not know if I should take that as an insult."

"Do not think too much on it," she says as she stands from her seat. "And you are not to leave this bed for the next few days. Mirabeau's orders."

"What?" I exclaim.

"Your injuries worsened after what happened which is what caused your fever."

It's my turn for my eyes to narrow. "And you want me to stay bed ridden in your home?"

She smiles. "I don't, Mirabeau does. He will be here after his trip from Versailles to speak to you about what happened."

The back of my head hits the headboard as a sigh escapes my lips. The last thing I need is to continue resting. "I'm sure I don't have to be locked in this room until then."

"I will chain you to the bed frame if it keeps you in it."

I nearly laugh at the statement. "Sorry, but I don't do ropes without a watchword."

With a frown on her lips and her cheeks scarlet, the red-head turns her back towards me before exiting the room. Getting the last word is probably going to be the greatest victory I am going to receive during my stay here, but it was worth it.

X

_The tassel of red hair is the last thing I see before the door closes, leaving me in the dark. A fur coat brushes my face, but I am too afraid to push it away in fear that the man outside will hear me within the closet. _

"_Élise, have you seen Arno? His carriage is here," the voice of Monsieur de la Serre speaks up._

"_No, father. Not since dinner," she replies with honey in her words. If only she could sound this innocent when speaking to me._

"_When you see him, send him to the foyer."_

"_Yes, father."_

_Heavy footsteps further from our location before the sound of a door closing echoes off the maroon walls of the red-head's room. Several moments pass before the closet door opens, Élise steps inside, and closes the aperture behind her. Small hands press against my chest, knocking me back against the wall of the cabinet before she stands on her toes to seal her lips on my own. My right hand reaches up and flows through her fiery locks while my other wraps around her waist to bring our bodies closer together. Her fingers grip at my cravat while her other hand holds our heads closer together. We're both clumsy with our movements, but we do not care._

_After months of separation, my father had returned from Austria to visit for what was going to be a short six months. Although Élise has her studies here in Paris, I fear that we will not be able to see one another for some time. The red-head held very few people with the title of friend, and the majority of them were living in Versailles. By leaving, she was going to be alone until my return._

"_I think it's time I go. Bother of our fathers will be furious if we keep them waiting," I mutter against her lips as I separate from her._

"_After you just professed your love to me, I don't think so," she retorts before kissing me once more._

"_They will find us eventually, and I do not think they will approve," I say. _

"_And what if they do?" she questions. "We will never know until they do."_

_My hand cups her cheek while our noses brush gently together in the darkness. "I love you," I mutter and she seals our lips together in response._

X

_January 17__th__, 1791_

_Maison de la Serre_

Sweat trickles down every inch of my body as my left arm holds my form above the tiled floor before bending and slowly lowering my form until my nose barely scraps the ground. The push upwards is trickier, but I manage it before repeating the motion. My useless right arm lies still on my back, and my ribs cry out in agony, but I was not about to lie in bed while Élise has me under house arrest. She may have convicted me here, but I was not about to let her have the satisfaction of my defeat.

Two raps echo off the wood of the door before the red-head enters the room. A sour look crosses her features, but this isn't the first time she has caught me out of bed.

"Must you endanger your health to prove a point?" she questions as I finish my last push-up and stand to my feet.

Her emerald eyes stray from mine as she examines my bare chest and mudded trousers. I must look a mess with my hair tangled and matted to my face while the stench of a long day lingers on my skin. Ever since I was a boy, I had always wondered how women were able to do what men did, but still keep their beauty afterwards. Élise was one of them. When we used to race through the _maison _and fence in the ballroom, it did not matter how dirty we became or how much sweat drenched our clothes, the red-head always had her hair perfect and her skin glowing.

"It's better than lying around," I retort as I move pass her to fix myself a bath.

Since my former room was only considered a guest _chambre, _it was not fashioned with a washroom. However, I was lucky enough to be given the room across from the bath that all guest would share. Élise follows close behind as I enter the sky-blue chamber and begin stocking the fireplace with logs.

"I know this is difficult for you to swallow, but I need you alive," she states as the flames rise from beneath the wood.

I stride pass the woman once more and make my way down the hall, descend the stairs, and enter the courtyard where a well awaits. The red-head stays close, and despite my silence, she says nothing more as she observes my actions carefully.

"I'm not using my arm and my ribs were only fractured. I had been resting long enough before I went searching for you and the only reason why I blacked out was due to a fever," I retort as I fill a bucket and begin my ascension back to the _chambre. _

"A fever caused by exerting your body too far," Élise remarks.

I sit the bucket over the fire before turning towards the woman who is currently invading on the little personal space I have. She isn't much shorter than I, but she seems so small compared to my broader form. "I appreciate the concern, but it isn't needed."

"When will it be needed? When you black out again or when you are on your death bed due to your stupidity?"

My lips curl downwards. "If I recall correctly, I once gave a similar speech when we were younger. A talk you often ignored."

"And if I remember correctly, we were both brash as children. It seems only one of us grew up!"

My anger is rising, and before I could stop myself, the words pour out of my mouth in malice. "Why must you be so persistent with my affairs? I never asked for your worry, nor do I need your involvement with my status!"

Élise presses her lips together into a thin line as her eyes shimmer beneath her furrowed brow. She shakes her head slowly before giving me a disgusted look. "Well I'm sorry to annoy you with my concerns," she mutters in a low tone. "If you need me, I will be attending a meeting with Lafrenière this evening, so do not expect me to be home until late."

I open my mouth my apologize, but she has already turned her back to me and is half-way out the door. My eyes close as I realize how much of a _connard _I have been to the woman. I honestly do not mean to be so hateful, but how do I give her my trust again? And when have I given too much?


	11. L'Histoire

**I'm being generous today and giving you guys another chapter.**

**Enjoy.**

Chapter 10: L'Histoire

_January 19__th__, 1791_

_Maison de la Serre_

At long last, after what felt like an eternal torture, Mirabeau finally arrives back in Paris and retrieves me from Élise's care. If one were to call it that. After our argument, the red-head found it more preferable to leave me be rather than insist on my health. I am not complaining about the arrangement; however, I have become concerned about her state since then. I know it is very hypocritical of me to think such things, especially after the fight, but her mood has flipped almost entirely.

Her voice no longer held authority, but instead has gone from fierce and bold to meek and sharp. When we would converse, if we did, she spoke quickly and then would excuse herself to anywhere I was not. I had attempted to apologize on multiple occasions, but she would not allow any form of audience with me. My stupid self had royally destroyed any communication that the two of us had established.

The blue coat is heavy on my shoulders as I finally finish dressing. With the extra time, I had made sure I was washed and my hair tied neatly into a ponytail. Unfortunately, due to the lack of men in the de la Serre home, there were no razors to borrow, leaving my jaw unshaven and prickled with hair. In Austria, the women adored men with beards. It was a sign of strength and manhood, but this is France. It is considered informal to have any hair out of place.

Unlike the many times before, the red-head does not knock as she barges into the room. I only give her a quick glance before inspecting myself in the mirror and straightening my coat.

"Mirabeau's carriage has arrived," Élise states in a low voice.

I finally turn her direction before pulling my hood over my head. "Always on time, isn't he?"

Her face remains emotionless. "You should hurry. He does not like to be kept waiting."

My lips curl downwards as I follow the woman down the hall, descend the stairs into the foyer, and stop her as she motions to open the door. Her glare is menacing and sends a child down my spine as I hold the aperture shut. "Élise," I start, causing her to frown. "I…I want to apologize for my behavior…I…it was uncalled for. You were right…and it was rude of me to say the things I did…"

The red-head turns her body towards me as she crosses her arms over her chest. "There is no apology needed," she says, her voice still quiet but sharp. "I thought about everything you've said since the beginning of your stay…it's occurred to me that I am dragging you into this life that you do not want…As of now, you will no longer be the negotiator for the truce between our Orders."

My mouth falls agape at the words I am hearing. Élise's emerald eyes stray away as my heart clenches in my chest. "Then everything we accomplished-"

"Will be continued, but between the terms that Mirabeau and I discuss."

I feel as though I am being held under water with noises muffled and my lungs burning for oxygen. So that was it then? Our second attempt at a stable friendship now tossed because of me?

"Élise," I nearly beg, not believing the desperation in my own voice. "I'm sorry for what I said-"

She takes a step way before knocking my hand away from the door and pulls the aperture open, allowing the chilly night air into the foyer. "We tried, didn't we?" she says in defeat. "But I don't think we were meant to be friends."

I want to say something to her, but all my words stay choked in my throat. She is giving me what I want: my life without the political affairs. However, by doing this, our communication would be cut, and just as we were making progress…

"Élise," I call softly, but she shakes her head.

"Just go…"

With nothing else to say, I let my legs carry my form to Mirabeau's carriage and climb inside. The politician, as merry as he was plump, greets me with a smile before ushering the wagon to move forward. His grin slowly fades as he reads my expression carefully.

"She spoke of the news?" he questions and I only nod in response. "I see…it troubles you?"

"I did not think she would take my words to heart…" I say with my mind still fixed on the way she stared at me in the foyer.

Mirabeau shakes his head as his smile returns. "Most men do not think so either until their wives leave with the children."

"And you are content with this? Taking over?"

"Arno," he starts while looking me in the eye. "I was bred for politics. Negotiating and finding peaceful solutions is what I exceed towards. Élise may be like her mother, but she should certainly be a clever business partner. I have no quarrels with her decisions, but the question is: do you?"

X

_February 3__rd,__ 1791_

_Café Théâtre_

Steel kisses steel before the two of us step away from one another. Vincent was never very good with a one-handed weapon, letting our sparring matches fall in my favor. My wounds had finally healed and Mirabeau gave me leave to begin assignments again; however, I find myself slow to adapt to the freedom. Without Élise constantly paying a visit to the _café, _there is more alone time to myself, which leaves me with more chances to think about how much of an idiot I was. I have not seen her since my stay at her home, but the guilt of my attitude plagues my mind.

"I don't think I can keep this up," Vincent says as he wipes his brow with his sleeve.

He was right. We had been at it for hours, but I still had more energy to burn and too many hours left in the day. "If you want to quit the session, go on," I state while placing my training sword back on the rack.

"And leave you with what? A day of sulking?" he retorts.

"I don't sulk," I remark, earning a chuckle from the older man.

"Whatever you say."

We each exit the training room and find a seat in my _chambre _while I signal one of the _café _waitresses to bring us some coffee. Vincent makes himself comfortable in my chair next to the window overlooking the terrace while I sit at my desk and finally decide to read the many unopened letters I have received in the past few weeks. The majority of them were from friends I had made in Austria while some originate from business partners here in Paris, and then there was one from Élise. She had sent it some time ago, but I did not have the heart to open it.

The waitress returns with a silver platter in her hands with a metal kettle, two porcelain cups, and a bowl of sugar balancing on a white cloth. My companion gives her his signature smile as she places the tray on a circular table closer to him and blushes from the attention. The woman was a year older than I with a cute face and a curious mind. She was born from a poor family and was the youngest of two children, leaving her with very little to call her own. Although she lacks education, she has a sharp wit and the beauty to match the royals. She and I were close growing up, not like Élise and I, but whenever I needed a friend the most, she was there.

Victoria.

She preferred being called Tori, a pet name she said her father gave her; however, I found her real name beautiful. Like myself, her mother was Austrian, but her father Irish. She did not like to speak of her parents since she lives with her uncle who runs the counter in the _café. _He and my father were close friends, which earned him the job. Tori applied only a year ago, but having her in my life again has kept me steady, even if it does not feel like it.

"Will that be all, _Monsieur?_" she asks meekly with a smile.

My lips curl upwards at her soft voice before shaking my head. "No, that will be all. Thank you, Victoria."

Her cheeks turn a shade darker as she politely bows before exiting the room. Vincent immediately snaps his head my direction while a toothy grin breaks out across his face. "If you do not woo her, I will."

I shake my head once more while returning to my letters. "I will not take advantage of her affection towards me."

"I saw the way you were looking at her. You like her."

"She's a friend."

"And you kept insisting that Élise was a business partner, yet you have done nothing but sulk since she quit talking to you."

"I am not sulking."

Vincent holds both hands up in a surrendering gesture. "That is beside the point. The problem is that you are lonely, with no one to fill the gap, and I think it's time you do something about it."

I sigh. "Please tell me you are not confessing your love."

"Not to you, but if you don't go downstairs and swoon that beautiful woman off her feet, then I will."

There is no time to retort as a thunderous crash shakes the floorboards of the attic. Vincent and I share a glance before we each jump from our seats. He instantly climbs the ladder in my room and disappears into the attic while I circle the building and find myself in the trophy room. Another crawlspace into the chamber above lingers atop a shelf, but before I can climb up the ladder, a small hand grabs at my sleeve.

Almond-shaped, brown eyes gaze into my own while soft, pink lips are parted in confusion. "What was that noise?" Tori questions while letting go of my arm. "The customers could hear it downstairs."

"It's nothing to worry about," I reply with a smile. "A stray must have knocked something over."

She sighs. "That's a relief. The staff thought that the revolutionaries were looting."

"All is well," I assure while gripping the ladder.

"_Monsieur," _she mutters meekly, and although I need to get up there in case Vincent calls on back up, I know I can not say no to the woman.

"Is something wrong?" I ask while turning to gaze at her.

"Oh…um…no, but…" A hue of scarlet paints her cheeks while her eyes avert to the side. "I was just hoping…wondering…if you would like to…uh…spend time together? Like we used to?"

I open my mouth, but I did not know what to say. It is definitely surprising. "I-uh…would love to," I reply before clearing my throat.

Her eyes widen. "We don't have to if you are not interested…I do not want to force you to say yes because you feel obligated…"

I place my hands on her skinny shoulders, my palms engulfing her tiny form as I gaze into her eyes. "I would be delighted," I smile causing the woman to melt in my arms. "How does next week sound?"

Tori's eyes widen once again as she stumbles on her words. "Sounds perfect."

Another thud hits the floorboards in the room above causing the woman to nearly scream in fright. "I need you to go downstairs," I announce while ushering her towards the door.

"What about you?" she questions.

I giver her my best smile. "I'm sure it's only a cat, but just in case, you should go."

Victoria looks like she is about to argue, but decides to hold her tongue. She bows before taking a few step backwards and exiting the room. Listening closely to her footsteps, I wait until she is down the hall before climbing the ladder and entering the cramped attic. Boxes stacked tightly together form a narrow passageway, allowing no room to run or hide. I keep my steps light, but despite my best efforts, the planks beneath my feet creak at the lightest touch. Enhancing my senses, the space around me becomes a dark abyss while a figure, shining in blood red, sits alone in a room hidden beyond a lone door. Vincent's form is no where to be seen, sending an icy chill through my veins. What did he do to him?

I push on the door lightly allowing it to open slowly on its own. Sitting behind a circular table in the center of the room, an elderly man with gray hair pulled back in a ponytail and a scar along his eye, awaits patiently as he sips on a bottle of summer wine. A container of mine, no doubt. Most likely stolen from the cellar. His brown eyes never bother to gaze up as I enter, but he motions for me to sit; however, I refuse.

"Where's Vincent?" I question. The mannequins that line the wall, with faceless heads and naked bodies, had always been a creepy reminder to why I hate this room. And yet, here I was, speaking to a man who changed my entire life in one night.

"A colleague of mine sent him on a wild goose chase," the man replies. His accent thick with foreign nature. "Don't worry, I specifically ordered for your friend to not be harmed or killed. He is only to be kept busy."

A frown etches at my lips as I finally take a seat at the table. "I guess you are here looking for the box?"

He finally places the bottle down on the table before meeting my gaze. "There was always a reason I never wanted to harm you, Arno. Unlike your father, you have a heart of gold. Although you grew up with their traditions and their creed, you have always seen the bigger picture. What both Assassins and Templars are capable of."

"Am I supposed to be moved by your speech?" I question. "You chased my father and I out of the country for a box."

"It's more than that-"

"Then explain!"

His eyes narrow as he leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. "The artifact is dangerous. It reveals locations that should never be accessed."

I cross my arms over my chest. "And what exactly do these places have at their disposal that make them so deadly?"

The Irishman sighs before taking another chug from the bottle. "I'm sure your father or the Brotherhood spoke of old relics. The Pieces of Eden?"

I nod. "There have not been mention of any in France since Joan d'Arc."

"There are similar artifacts beneath the surface of the earth. Holding our world up like columns beneath a balcony."

"And the box reveals their locations?"

It's his turn to nod. "If anyone were to go to these places and remove the artifact, the ground will crumble and destroy everything within range."

My eyes close and I shake my head at the ridiculous tale. "This sounds like a lunacy story."

His lips curl downwards while his eyes narrow in anger. "Boy, you need to head my words carefully. If anyone learns of the box's nature, then this world will break apart at the seams."

"Quit being so dramatic," I say, earning a glare that could match Élise's. "Your precious little artifact has been buried in an unmarked location to rot with the dead. Even my father rests easy in his grave knowing that it is protected."

"And where exactly is that?" he inquires while leaning back in his chair.

I give him a smirk. "With my death dies that knowledge."

The intruder is silent, calculating, but eventually he closes his eyes and begins to chuckle. He grabs the bottle before taking a swig and downs the rest of the contents. "I once promised someone that I would secure that box and bring it back to its rightful place. However, he's long dead as is the members of the Order I serve."

"And what are you left with in the end?"

He laughs lightly. "Not much at all. Spent far too many years searching for that artifact that I did not live the life I could have made for myself."

While he smiles, my features remain serious. "You killed an entire section of our Brotherhood to secure something you say you wished to protect rather than sit and explain it to them like you have with I."

"They could not be reasoned with-"

"How hard did you actually try?"

Shay's fist hits the table before he stands from his chair, knocking it backwards onto the ground. "Achilles Davenport had sent me on a fool's errand to retrieve an artifact that he claimed should not fall into Templar hands, but what did it do? It destroyed Lisbon! The earth tore apart, buildings fell, and innocents were killed! Over thirty thousand people - men, women, and children - died that day, and all I could do was sail away from the disaster! And what did my mentor say when I returned? He said that I had been the one at fault! That I must have miscalculated handling the artifact!"

My expression never changes. "And that's when you betrayed your brothers?"

The Irishman picks up his chair and sits himself back on the seat. "I tried to speak to Achilles afterwards…after I had cleared my head…but he danced around the argument. Had he not seen the truth for himself years later, I'm sure he would still find the fault in me."

"That still did not give you reason to kill the very people you once called family."

He shakes his head in a disapproving gesture. "Those people were only comrades in war. I; however, did have friends, a woman I loved, and a man who had been like a father to me…and they each fell to my blade. All but one. I felt nothing but regret and sorrow for each death I was forced to enact; nonetheless, I will make the same mistake again if it means protecting thousands of more lives."

I shake my head to stop myself from saying anymore. Corruption is everywhere. It's affecting both the Assassins and Templars here in France, and who knows how many other regions around the world. "So what happens now?" I question.

"I'm heading home it seems," he mutters. "My wife passed after our second child, and after nearly abandoning them, I doubt my girls will come with me back to the colonies."

Although the man had been a constant threat to my father's life, and worse, he was the reason for the downfall in the American colonies, he was also alone. A life built on sorrow and wasted ambition, and he was going to return with nothing. Shay rises from the table before turning to glance out the window behind him.

"Your wound healed nicely," he states causing my hand to reach up and trace the scar across my face. "After you took the hit for your father, I wasn't sure you were still breathing."

"Why didn't you finish the job after I fell?" I inquire.

He chuckles lowly. "I made a vow long ago to never harm an innocent soul. Although you were a novice, you had no mind to kill unless it was necessary."

My eyes fall to the table as I remember all the times I could have put an end to his life as he chased my father and I through Austria. Instead, I showed mercy, hoping he would learn that the box was not his to claim. My father vowed to protect it, nothing more. It was merely an object with value only seen by few, and we were not among them.

"Just remember, boy, luck does not favor the bold. It is achieved by those who work for it. That box…it will be found again one day by someone who spent years searching for it as I have. May we hope that you hid it well."

I nod despite his back still facing me. "You have my word."

Shay says nothing more before throwing down a smoke bomb. My lungs cry out in agony as I heavily cough out the gray fumes. I enhance my senses and search for the rogue, but despite his age, he is already gone and no where within range of my vision. After all this time, wondering when and if he would return, it is finally over.


	12. Repose en Paix

**Bonjour les femmes et les hommes!**

**This chapter was going to be out sooner, but I switched the idea around several times as I was writing. Also, I had another story idea as I was writing this chapter so you may be seeing a one-shot being posted sometime in the near future. **

**Enjoy. **

Chapter 11: Repose en Paix

_April 2__nd__, 1791_

_Les Halles District_

From afar, they are just mere men, but my companion and I see what lies beneath their façade. They were trained soldiers disguised as citizens to hide their true disposition. A clever ruse, but they honestly need to try much harder if they wish to fool the Assassins. Nodding to my comrade, Bellec and I blend with the citizens in the market square and slowly navigate towards the building in question.

The _bâitment _was like any other: a two-story construct with a storage attic and most likely a wine cellar below. The first floor consists of a _petit café _while the second floor housed three bedrooms for rent if anyone dared paid the atrocious price for a day's stay. It was in one of these chambers that our target awaits for one of his business partners, a man we had trailed and killed only an hour before.

Bellec enters the _café _like any other customer and moves to speak with the owner. Just like I thought, the balding man shakes his head and attempts to usher the assassin to a table, but he refuses. Exiting the building, my former mentor pretends to gaze at the other inns in the area before striding to my location amongst the stalls.

"All three rooms are occupied," he mutters with a scoff.

"I wonder if his men are as stupid as they look," I say as I note a brute-built man attempt to look casual as three scandalously dressed woman wave at him from across the street.

Bellec chuckles. "Duguay has never been an intelligent individual, but someone gave him the coin to gather a meeting here."

"He does work for Germain," I input as two patrons enter the _café _and instantly climb the stairs to the bedrooms.

"Get inside and see what our 'friends' are up to," the older man orders while eyeing a group of faction members entering the market.

We separate as I circle the backside of the building while Bellec begins his distraction of the guards. I don't bother observing his method, but instead dispose of the two lazy individuals resting along a wooden fence before scaling the architecture. A lone window, small in size, is the only available entrance at my disposal and I am barely able to squeeze through the tight aperture in order to enter the attic. Through the thick spaces between the floorboards, I can detect three men as they huddle together to speak while a fourth man observes from the opposite side of the room.

"The Grand Master needs proof that he is truly dead," the shortest of the bunch states while shoving another at least two heads taller than himself

The bald individual grunts, but suppresses his want to pummel the smaller faction member. "Proof? The whole city is in a panic after what the National Guard found at the cemetery."

"That does not mean that the job is done!"

"There has been news of this tragedy," the third man speaks. "But we must ensure that he was one of them."

"The man is dead and I want my pay!"

"You will be paid once we are certain," the first man cuts in while signaling to the lone individual. "See for yourself."

The silent figure nods before exiting the room and closing the door behind him. The inn falls silent save for the heavy footsteps of the brute's pacing. "This is ridiculous," he remarks while stopping. "We are just wasting time."

"No, we are not." A gurgle erupts from the brute's throat as the sound of liquid splatters onto the floor. I maneuver silently to get a better view as the bald man twitches on the ground until he is dead.

"The Grand Master will not be happy about this," the taller individual states. "He wanted the members of the Old Guard to believe the Assassins were the ones responsible for Lafrenière's death."

My eyes widen while my breath escapes my lungs. The Templar Grand Master is dead? Many questions fill my head, but only one matters the most: was Élise with him?

"Calm now, le Peletier," the short man soothes. "The mercenary did as he was ordered, and even Germain knows that not everything falls into place. The Assassins may be a thorn in our side, but once we achieve our goals, they will be mere ants to us."

"You say that with certainty when we both know what they are capable of."

"The Grand Master already has a new plan in motion as we speak. Élise may not have been with Lafrenière that night, but she is supposed to meet with the leader of the Assassins today. Two birds, one stone."

Ice chills my veins as I realize where they plan to strike next. Our duty here was to silence the hired faction leader, but there is no way I can if I am to stop their next attack. Unlocking one of the larger windows, I instantly leap across the alleyway in the back of the building and land on the opposite roof. I waste no time traveling the distance it takes to get from _Les Halles _to _Île de la Cité. _Mirabeau's estate is only several blocks from the _Café Théâtre, _but it feels so much further as I race against the clock.

I do not knock, but instead barge through the front door before climbing the stairs two steps at a time. The sound of clashing swords reaches my ears before a thud hit's the floor followed by a scream of pain. I make it to the second story to see the back of a dark-cloaked figure and Élise writhing on ground while clutching her side.

The assaulter barely has time to turn towards me as I strike at him with my hidden blade, but he quickly leans backwards causing the steel to miss his chest. As I press forward, so does he, his cutlass digging into my bracer. Taking in a deep breath, I shove my arm to the side along with his blade before kicking his torso and sending him stumbling pass Élise. Before he can recover, I am in front of him once more and grab him by the hair while sinking my weapon into his neck. The man makes no sound as he claws at my arm before falling motionless onto the carpet.

Élise's emerald eyes stare into my brown ones, silently calling out for help as blood oozes from between her fingers. With a quick stride, I am at her side to examine the wound. It's deep, but not fatal, and it was by luck that the blade missed her organs. For the first time, my attention lands on the man slumped in his chair while his lifeless eyes stare at nothing in particular. A lump forms in my throat while my heart clenches at the sight.

"Arno," the red-head mutters through ragged breaths. "Mirabeau…he…poisoned…"

"Ssshhh," I soothe while collecting her in my arms. "You can tell me later."

I carry the woman in my arms out of the estate and into the streets of Paris causing every patron I pass to stare. Mirabeau and the assaulter's fates will have to wait, but for now, Élise is the priority.

X

_Later that evening._

_Café Théâtre_

The hours of the day passed by in the blink of an eye as Élise lied un-stirring in my bed. Her breath is shallow as she sleeps the pain away. The doctor said she will recover with no permanent injuries; however, her fragile state still causes me to worry.

"Is she doing better?" a meek voice questions as a woman joins at my side in front of my room. She peers through the threshold, but does not dare enter.

"She has yet to wake, but the fever has finally subsided," I reply as I push myself from the doorframe in order to stand properly.

"Monsieur Bellec and Madame Trent wait for you downstairs," Tori announces.

My attention finally strays to the brunette before I give her a small smile. "_Merci_."

Victoria bows before making her way back to the foyer. She will most likely head home now after a long day nursing Élise to a stable condition. It's been a tiresome twelve hours for us all. Despite my want to stay, I let my legs subconsciously guide me down the staircase and into my public office next to the kitchen. Both my former mentor and the council woman await my arrival with stern faces and heavy hearts. Today we lost another good man to Germain and nearly Élise with him. The Templar is becoming more bold, and soon we will see a war.

"How fares De la Serre?" Sophie Trent questions as soon as the door is closed.

I observe the two with tired eyes, and like me, it has been a rough day for them as well. "She will recover. The doctor said the wound could have been worse, but a week's rest should do before attempting to walk again."

Sophie nods, but Bellec is red-faced. "And why are we not imprisoning her?" he inquires while gazing at the woman. "For all we know, the brat could have staged the attack."

"How did Mirabeau die?" I ask.

"Poison," Sophie replies with bitterness in her voice. "There were traces in both goblets, but Élise's went untouched."

I shake my head. "She does not drink outside of her home."

"I'm still not trusting her," my former mentor states.

"What of the man who attacked Élise? Has he been identified?"

The council woman nods. "His name was Jean-Paul Dupont. A gifted assassin when he was one. He betrayed the Brotherhood six years ago, and eventually went rogue. We last saw him trying to flee to Spain, but it seems he returned or never left."

A sigh escapes my lips as I smooth the growing hair along my jaw line. "He must have been offered a great deal of coin to accept such a task to kill two important figures in our Orders."

"Lafrenière will be furious when he learns that she was attacked by a rogue assassin."

They didn't know…

"Lafrenière is dead," I announce causing their mouths to fall agape. "Germain hired men to dress in hoods and eliminate members of the Old Guard that the Grand Master had assembled."

"He's trying to start a war…" the woman mutters while taking a seat out of shock.

"The bastard is not starting one. He began this the day he killed De la Serre, but the Council refused to see it until now," Bellec inputs while glaring at Sophie.

I nod as Germain's schemes finally come to light. We thought we were preventing bloodshed by keeping peace with the Templars, but all we were doing was giving the 'Grand Master' the opportunity to strike. "Élise is the only person left who can rally the Old Guard. Germain will continue to see her as a threat until she is dead."

Bellec mutters something under his breath while the council woman seems deep in thought. "For now, we will protect Madame de la Serre," she announces. "We know who the real enemy is, but we must first identify what his next move will be."

"Why are we sticking our necks out for this girl?" the man questions while taking a step forward. "For all we know, she could be in an alliance with the bastard."

My eyes narrow at his words as I too step forward. "Élise has been doing all that she can to prevent the war Germain is invoking. By assuming she is the guilty party, you are giving him what he wants."

Sophie moves between us with a frown etched onto her lips. "Until we know for certain who is at fault here, the girl will stay in your care, Arno. Have her rest and retrieve her strength so that we can resume the affairs of the truce. With both Mirabeau and Lafrenière gone, we will be forced to re-establish our foundations. As for you, Pierre, there is much needed to be done. Come to the bureau in the morning to discuss your future assignments."

With that, the woman marches towards the back door and exits into the city. With a snarl, Bellec moves to follow, but stops as his hand rests on the doorknob. "Don't let her decieve you, boy. If it means vengeance, she will throw you from another window to achieve it."

My glare intensifies. "Germain is her target as well. If either one of our Orders want to stop this madness, we need to work together."

"And then what?" he questions. "All goes back to normal and you can resume the life you had nine years ago? You've experienced first hand how fast that girl turns on her friends. Be wary that she doesn't repeat the notion."

The man is gone before I can retort, leaving me alone to reflect on his words. He speaks true, but I am not about to abandon the woman now. I've already screwed up twice…let us hope that the third time is the charm…


End file.
